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The New Soldier 


OR 


NATURE AND LIFE. 


BY 

HENRYK glENKIEWICZ, 

Author of “Quo Vadis,” “Her Tragic Fate,” “Dust and 
Ashes,” “Where Worlds Meet,” “So Runs 
the World,” etc., etc. 


TRANSI,ATED BY 

J. CHRISTIAN BAY. 



NEW YORK : 
HURST & COMPANY, 
PUBLISHERS. 


t 


I 


i 






COPYRIGHT, 1399, BY 

F. Tennyson Neely 

IN THE UNITED STATES AND GREAT BRITAIN. 


COPYRIGHT, 1901, BY 

Hurst <Sc Company. 







UJ/// / J i f ^ 


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4 I*. 


INTRODUCTION. 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 

I once read a short story, in which a Slav 
author had all the lilies and bells in a forest 
bending toward each other, whispering and 
resounding softly the words: “Glory! Glory! 
Glory!” until the whole forest and then the 
whole world., repeated the song of flowers. 

Such is to-day the fate of the author of the 
powerful historical trilogy: “With Fire and 
Sword,” “The Deluge” and “Pan Michael,” 
preceded by short stories, “Lillian Morris,” 
“Yanko the Musician,” “After Bread,’^ 
“Hania,” “Let Us Follow Him,” followed by 
two problem novels, “Witho.ut Dogma,” and 
“Children of the Soil,” and crowned by a 


5 


6 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


masterpiece of an incomparable artistic beauty^ 
‘'Quo Vadis.” Eleven good books adopted 
from the Polish language and set into circula- 
tion are of great importance for the English- 
reading people — just now I am emphasizing 
only this — because these books are written in 
the most beautiful language ever written by 
any Polish author! Eleven books of masterly, 
personal, and simple prose! Eleven good 
books given to the circulation and received not 
only with admiration but with gratitude — 
books where there are more or less good or 
sincere pages, but where there is not one on 
which original humor, nobleness, charm, some 
comforting thoughts, some elevated senti- 
ments do not shine. Some other author would 
perhaps have stopped after producing “Quo 
Vadis,” without any doubt the best of Sienkie- 
wicz’s books. But Sienkiewicz looks into the 
future and cares more about works which he is 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


7 


going to write, than about those which we 
have already in our libraries, and he renews 
his talents, searching, perhaps unknowingly, 
for new themes and tendencies. 

When one knows how to read a book, then 
from its pages the author’s face looks out on 
him, a fate not material, but just the same 
full of life. Sienkiewicz’s face, looking on us 
from his books, is not always the same; it 
changes, and in his last book (“Quo Vadis”) 
it is quite different, almost new. 

There are some people who throw down a 
book after having read it, as one leaves a bot- 
tle after having drank the wine from it. 
There are others who read books with a pencil 
in their hands, and they mark the most strik- 
ing passages. Afterward, in the hours of rest, 
in the moments when one needs a stimulant 
from within and one searches for harmony, 
sympathy of a thing apparently so dead and 


8 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


Strange as a book is, they come back to the 
marked passages, to their own thoughts, more 
comprehensible since an author expressed 
them; to their own sentiments, stronger and 
more natural since they found them in some- 
body else’s words. Because ofttimes it seems 
to us — the common readers — that there is no 
difiference between our interior world and the 
horizon of great authors, and we flatter our- 
selves by believing that we are only less dar- 
ing, less brave than are thinkers and poets, 
that some interior lack of courage stopped us 
from having formulated our impressions. And 
in this sentiment there is a great deal of truth. 
But while this expression of our thoughts 
seems to us to be a daring, to the others it is 
a need; they even do not suspect how much 
they are daring and new. They must, accord- 
ing to the words of a poet, ‘‘Spin out the love, 
as the silkworm spins its web.” That is their 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


9 


capital distinction from common mortals; we 
recognize them by it at once; and that is the 
reason we put them above the common level. 
On the pages of their books we find not the 
traces of the accidental, deeper penetrating 
into the life or more refined feelings, but the 
whole harvest of thoughts, impressions, dispo- 
sitions, written skilfully, because studied deep- 
ly. We also leave something on these pages. 
Some people dry flowers on them, the others 
preserve reminiscences. In every one of Sien- 
kiewicz’s volumes people will deposit a great 
many personal impressions, part of their souls; 
in every one they will find them again after 
many years. 

There are three periods in Sienkiewicz’s lit- 
erary life. In the first he wrote short stories, 
which are masterpieces of grace and ingenuity 
— at least some of them. In those stories the 
reader will meet frequent thoughts about gen- 


10 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


eral problems, deep observations of life — and 
notwithstanding his idealism, very truthful 
about spiritual moods, expressed with an easy 
and sincere hand. Speaking about Sienkie- 
wicz’s works, no matter how small it may be, 
one has always the feeling that one speaks 
about a known, living in general memory 
work. Almost every one of his stories is like 
a stone thrown in the midst of a flock of spar- 
rows gathering in the winter time around 
barns: one throw arouses at once a flock of 

winged reminiscences. 

The other characteristics of his stories are 
tmcommonness of his conceptions, masterly 
compositions, ofttimes artificial. It happens 
also that a story has no plot (“From the Diary 
of a Tutor in Pozman,’^ “Bartek the Victor”), 
no action, almost no matter (“Yamyol”), but 
the reader is rewarded by simplicity, rural 
theme, humoristic pictures (“Comedy of Err- 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


11 


ors: A Sketch of American Life”), pity for 
the little and poor (‘'Yanko the Musician”), 
and those qualities make the reader remember 
his stories well. It is almost impossible to 
forget — under the general impressions — about 
his striking and standing-out figures ('‘The 
Lighthouse Keeper of Aspinwall”), about the 
individual impression they leave on our minds. 
Apparently they are commonplace, every-day 
people, but the author’s talent puts on them an 
original individuality, a particular stamp, 
which makes one remember them forever and 
afterward apply them to the individuals which 
one meets in life. No matter how insignifi- 
cant socially is the figure chosen by Sienkie- 
wicz for his story, the great talent of the author 
magnifies its striking features, not seen by 
common people, and makes of it a master- 
piece of literary art. 

Although we have a popular saying: Com- 


12 HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 

paraison n^est pas raison^ one cannot refrain 
from stating here that this love for the poor, 
the little, and the oppressed, brought out so 
powerfully in Sienkiewicz’s short stories, con- 
stitutes a link between him and Francois Cop- 
pee, who is so great a friend of the friendless 
and the oppressed, those who, without noise, 
bear the heaviest chains, the pariahs of our 
happy and smiling society. The only differ- 
ence between the short stories of these two 
writers is this, that notwithstanding all the 
mastercraft of Coppee work, one forgets the 
impressions produced by the reading of his 
work — while it is almost impossible to forget 
‘The Lighthouse Keeper” looking on any 
lighthouse, or “Yanko the Musician” listen- 
ing to a poor wandering boy playing on the 
street, or “Bartek the Victor” seeing soldiers 
of which military discipline have made ma- 
chines rather than thinking beings, or ‘The 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. IS 

Diary of a Tutor” contemplating the pale face 
of children overloaded with studies. Another 
difference between those two writers — the 
comparison is always between their short stor- 
ies — is this, that while Sienkiewicz’s figures 
and characters are universal, international — 
if one can use this adjective here — and can be 
applied to the students of any country, to the 
soldiers of any nation, to any wandering mu- 
sician and to the light-keeper on any sea, the 
figures of Frangois Coppee are mostly Taris- 
ian and could be hardly displaced from their 
Parisian surroundings and conditions. 

Sometimes the whole short story is written 
for the sake of that which the French call 
poinie. When one has finished the reading of 
‘'Zeus’s Sentence,” for a moment the charm- 
ing description of the evening and Athenian 
night is lost. And what a beautiful descrip- 
tion it is ! If the art of reading were cultivated 


14 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


in America as it is in France and Germany, I 
would not be surprised if some American Le- 
gouve or Strakosch were to add to his reper- 
toire such productions of prose as this hu- 
morously poetic ‘‘Zeus’s Sentence,” or that 
mystic madrigal, “Be Blessed.” 

“But the dusk did not last long,” writes 
Sienkiewicz. “Soon from the Archipelago 
appeared the pale Selene and began to sail like 
a silvery boat in the heavenly space. And the 
walls of the Acropolis lighted again, but they 
beamed now with a pale green light, and 
looked more than ever like the vision of a 
dream.” 

But all these, and other equally charming 
pictures, disappear for a moment from the 
memory of the reader. There remains only 
the final joke — only Zeus’s sentence. “A vir- 
tuous woman — especially when she loves an- 
other man- — can resist Apollo. But surely 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


15 


and always a stupid woman will resist him.” 

Only when one thinks of the story does one 
see that the ending — that ‘‘immoral conclu- 
sion” I should say if I were not able to under- 
stand the joke — does not constitute the es- 
sence of the story. Only then we find a de- 
light in the description of the city for which 
the wagons cater the divine barley, and the 
water is carried by the girls, “with amphorae 
poised on their shoulders and lifted hands, go- 
ing home, light and graceful, like immortal 
nymphs.” 

And then follow such paragraphs as the fol- 
lowing, which determine the real value of the 
work: 

“The voice of the God of Poetry sounded so 
beautiful that it performed a miracle. Be- 
hold! In the Ambrosian night the gold spear 
standing on the Acropolis of Athens trembled, 
and the marble head of the gigantic statue 


16 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


turned toward the Acropolis in order to hear 
better. . . . Heaven and earth listened to it; 
the sea stopped roaring and lay peacefully 
near the shores; even pale Selene stopped her 
night wandering in the sky and stood motion- 
less over Athens.” " 

‘‘And when Apollo had finished, a light 
wind arose and carried the song through the 
whole of Greece, and wherever a child in the 
cradle heard only a tone of it, that child grew 
into 4 poet.” 

What poet? Famed by what song? Will 
he not perhaps be a lyric poet? 

The same happens with “Lux in Tenebris.” 
One reads again and again the description of 
the fall of the mist and the splashing of the 
rain dropping in the gutter, “the cawing of 
the crows, migrating to the city for their 
winter quarters, and, with flapping of wings, 
roosting in the trees.” One feels that the 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


17 


whole misery of the first ten pages was neces- 
sary in order to form a background for the 
two pages of heavenly light, to bring out the 
brightness of that light. “Those who have 
lost their best beloved,” writes Sienkiewicz, 
“must hang their lives on something; other- 
wise they could not exist.” In such sentences 
— and it is not the prettiest, but the shortest 
that I have quoted — resounds, however, the 
quieting wisdom, the noble love of that art 
which poor Kamionka “respected deeply and 
was always sincere toward.” During the long 
years of his profession he never cheated nor 
wronged it, neither for the sake of fame nor 
money, nor for praise nor for criticism. He 
always wrote as he felt. Were I not like Ruth 
of the Bible, doomed to pick the ears of corn 
instead of being myself a sower — if God had 
not made me critic and worshipper but artist 
and creator — I could not wish for another ne- 


18 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


crology than those words of Sienkiewicz re- 
garding the statuary Kamionka. 

Quite another thing is the story ‘'At the 
Source.” None of the stories except “Let Us 
Follow Him” possess for me so many tran- 
scendent beauties, although we are right to be 
angry with the author for having wished, dur- 
ing the reading of several pages, to make us 
believe an impossible thing — that he was de- 
ceiving us. It is true that he has done it in a 
masterly manner — it is true that he could not 
have done otherwise, but at the same time 
there is a fault in the conception, and although 
Sienkiewicz has covered the precipice with 
flowers, nevertheless the precipice exists. 

On the other hand, it is true that one read- 
ing the novel will forget the trick of the author 
and will see in it only the picture of an im- 
mense happiness and a hymn in the worship of 
love. Perhaps the poor student is right when 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 19 

< le says: ^‘Among all the sources of happi- 
less, that from which I drank during the fever 
is the clearest and best.” life which love 
: has not visited, even in a dream, is still worse.” 
Love and faith in woman and art are two 

i 

' constantly recurring themes in “Lux in Tene- 
bris,” “At the Source,” “Be Blessed,” and 
“Organist of Ponikila.” 

When Sienkiewicz wrote “Let Us Follow 
' Him,” some critics cried angrily that he les- 
sens his talent and moral worth of the litera- 
I ture; they regretted that he turned people 
■ into the false road of mysticism, long since 
I left. Having found Christ on his pages, the 

I ' least religious people have recollected how gi- 
gantic he is in the writings of Heine, walking 
. over land and sea, carrying a red, burning sun 
‘ instead of a heart. They all understood that 
to introduce Christ not only worthily or beau- 
tifully, but simply and in such a manner that 


20 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


we would not be obliged to turn away from 
the picture, would be a great art — almost a 
triumph. 

In later times we have made many such at- 
tempts. “The Mysticism” became to-day an 
article of commerce. The religious tender- 
ness and simplicity was spread among Pari- 
sian newspaper men, playwrights and novel- 
ists. Such as Armand Sylvestre, such as 
Theodore de Wyzewa, are playing at writing 
up Christian dogmas and legends. And a 
strange thing! While the painters try to 
bring the Christ nearer to the crowd, while 
Fritz von Uhde or Lhermitte put the Christ in 
a country school, in a workingman’s house, 
the weakling writers, imitating poets, dress 
Him in old, faded, traditional clothes and sur- 
round Him with a theatrical light which they 
dare to call “rfiysticism.” They are crowding 
the porticos of the temple, but they are merely 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 2t 

merchants. Anatole France alone cannot be 
placed in the same crowd. 

In ‘Xet Us Follow Him” the situation and 
characters are known, and are already to be 
found in literature. But never were they 
painted so simply, so modestly, without ro- 
mantic complaints and exclamations. In the 
first chapters of that story there appears an 
epic writer with whom we have for a long" 
time been familiar. We are accustomed to 
that uncommon simplicity. But in order to 
appreciate the narrative regarding Antea, one 
must listen attentively to this slow prose and 
then one will notice the rhythmic sentences 
following one after the other. Then one feels 
that the author is building a great foundation 
for the action. Sometimes there occurs a 
brief, sharp sentence ending in a strong, short 
word, and the result is that Sienkiewicz has 
given us a masterpiece which justifies the en- 


22 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


thusiasm of a critic, who called him a Prince 
of Polish Prose. 

In the second period of his literary activity, 
Sienkiewicz has produced his remarkable his- 
torical trilogy, 'The Deluge,’’ "With Fire and 
Sword,” and "Pan Michael,” in which his tal- 
ent shines forth powerfully, and which possess 
absolutely distinctive characters from his short 
stories. Tne admirers of romanticism cannot 
find any better books in historical fiction. 
Some critic has said righteously about Sienkie- 
wicz, speaking of his "Deluge,” that he is 
"the first of Polish novelists, past or present, 
and second to none now living in England, 
Prance, or Germany.” 

Sienkiewicz being himself a nobleman, 
therefore naturally in his historical novels he 
describes the glorious deeds of the Polish no- 
bility, who, being located on the frontier of 
such barbarous nations as Turks, Kozaks, 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


25 


Tartars, and Wolochs (to-day Roumania), had 
defended Europe for centuries from the inva- 
sions of barbarism and gave the time to Ger- 
many, France, and England to outstrip Po- 
land in the development of material welfare 
and general civilization among the masses — 
the nobility being always very refined — 
though in the fifteenth century the literature 
of Poland and her sister Bohemia (Chechy) 
was richer than any other European country,, 
except Italy. One should at least always re- 
member that Nicolaus Kopernfcus (Koper^ 
nik) was a Pole and John Huss was a Chech. 

Historical novels began in England, or 
rather in Scotland, by the genius of Walter 
Scott, followed in France by Alexandre Du- 
mas pere. These two great writers had nu- 
merous followers and imitators in all countries, 
and every nation can point out some more or 
less si^ccessful writer in that field, but who 


M HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 

never attained the great success of Sienkie- 
wicz, whose works are translated into many 
languages, even into Russian, where the an- 
tipathy for the Polish superior degree of civil- 
ization is still very eager. 

The superiority of Sienkiewicz’s talent is 
then affirmed by this fact of translation, and I 
would dare say that he is superior to the father 
of this kind of novels, on account of his his- 
torical coloring, so much emphasized in Wal- 
ter Scott. This important quality in the his- 
torical novel is truer and more lively in the 
Polish writer, and then he possesses that psy- 
chological depth about which Walter Scott 
never dreamed. Walter Scott never has cre- 
ated such an original and typical figure as Za- 
globa is, who is a worthy rival to Shake- 
speare’s Falstaffi As for the description of 
duelings, fights, battles, Sienkiewicz’s fantas- 
tically heroic pen is without rival. 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


25 


Alexandre Dumas, notwithstanding the bit- 
ing criticism of Brunetiere, will always remain 
a great favorite with the reading masses, who 
are searching in his books for pleasure, amuse- 
ment, and distraction. Sienkiewicz’s histori- 
cal novels possess all the interesting qualities 
of Dumas, and besides that they are full of 
wholesome food for thinking minds. His col- 
ors are more shining, his brush is broader, his 
composition more artful, chiselled, finished, 
better built, and executed with more vigor. 
While Dumas amuses, pleases, distracts, Sien- 
kiewicz astonishes, surprises, bewitches. All 
uneasy preoccupations, the dolorous echoes 
of eternal problems, which philosophical doubt 
imposes with the everlasting anguish of the 
human mind, the mystery of the origin, the 
enigma of destiny, the inexplicable necessity 
of suffering, the short, tragical, and sublime 
vision of the future of the soul, and the future 


26 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


not less difficult to be guessed of by the hu- 
man race in this material world, the torments 
of human conscience and responsibility for the 
deeds, is said by Sienkiewicz without any 
pedanticism, without any dryness. 

If we say that the great Hungarian author 
Maurice Jokai, who also writes historical nov- 
els, pales when compared with that fascinating 
Pole who leaves far behind him the late lions 
in the field of romanticism, Stanley J. Wey- 
man and Anthony Hope, we are through with 
that part of Sienkiewicz’s literary achieve- 
ments. 

In the third period Sienkiewicz is repre- 
sented by two problem novels, '‘Without Dog- 
ma” and "Children of the Soil.” 

The charm of Sienkiewicz’s psychological 
novels is the synthesis so seldom realized and 
as I have already said, the plastic beauty and 
abstract thoughts. He possesses also an ad- 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


27 


mirable assurance of psychological analysis, a 
mastery in the painting of customs and char- 
acters, and the rarest and most precious fac- 
ulty of animating his heroes with intense, per- 
sonal life, which, though it is only an illusion- 
ary life appears less deceitful than the real 
life. 

In that field of novels Sienkiewicz differs 
greatly from Balzac, for instance, who forced 
himself to paint the man in his perversity or in 
his stupidity. According to his views life is 
the racing after riches. The whole of Balzac’s 
philosophy can be resumed in the deification 
of the force. All his heroes are ‘^strong men” 
who disdain humanity and take advantage of 
it, Sienkiewicz’s psychological novels are not 
lacking in the ideal in his conception of life; 
they are active powers, forming human souls. 
The reader finds there, in a well-balanced pro- 
portion, good and bad ideas of life, and he rep- 


28 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


resents this life as a good thing, worthy of liv- 
ing. 

He differs also from Paul Bourget, who as 
a German savant counts how many microbes 
are in a drop of spoiled blood, who is pleased 
with any ferment, who does not care for 
healthy souls, as a doctor does not care for 
healthy people — and who is fond of corrup- 
tion. Sienkiewicz’s analysis of life is not ex- 
clusively pathological, and we find in his nov- 
els healthy as well as sick people as in the real 
life. He takes colors from twilight and 
aurora to paint with, and by doing so he 
strengthens our energy, he stimulates our abil- 
ity for thinking about those eternal problems, 
difficult to be decided, but which existed and 
will exist as long as humanity will exist. 

He prefers green fields, the perfume of flow- 
ers, health, virtue, to Zola’s liking for crime, 
sickness, cadaverous putridness, and manure^ 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


29 


He prefers P ame humaine to la bete humaine. 

He is never vulgar even when his heroes do 
not wear any gloves, and he has these common 
points with Shakespeare and Moliere, that he 
does not paint only certain types of humanity, 
taken from one certain part of the country, as 
it is with the majority of French writers who 
do not go out of their dear Paris; in Sienkie- 
wicz’s novels one can find every kind 
of people, beginning with humble peas- 
ants and modest noblemen created by 
God, and ending with proud lords made by 
the kings. 

In the novel “Without Dogma,” there are 
many keen and sharp observations, said mas- 
terly and briefly; there are many states of the 
soul, if not always very deep, at least written 
with art. And his merit in that respect is 
greater than of any other writers, if we take in 
consideration that in Poland heroic lyricism 


30 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


and poetical picturesqueness prevail in the lit- 
erature. 

The one who wishes to find in the modern 
literature some aphorism to classify the char- 
acteristics of the people, in order to be able 
afterward to apply them to their fellow-men, 
must read '^Children of the Soil.” 

But the one who is less selfish and wicked, 
and wishes to collect for his own use such a 
library as to be able at any moment to take a 
book from a shelf and find in it something^ 
which would make him thoughtful or would 
make him forget the ordinary life, — he must 
get “Quo Vadis,” because there he will find 
pages which will recomfort him by their beau- 
ty and dignity; it will enable him to go out 
from his surroundings and enter into himself, 
i- in that better man whom we sometimes 
feel in our interior. And while reading this 
book he ought to leave on its pages the traces 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


31 


of his readings, some marks made with a lead 
pencil or with his whole memory. 

It seems that in that book a new man was 
aroused in Sienkiewicz, and any praise said 
about this unrivaled masterpiece will be as 
pale as any powerful lamp is pale compara- 
tively with the glory of the sun. For instance, 
if I say that Sienkiewicz has made a thorough 
study of Nero’s epoch, and that his great tal- 
ent and his plastic imagination created the 
most powerful pictures in the historical back- 
ground, will it not be a very tame praise, com- 
pared with his book — which, while reading it, 
one shivers and the blood freezes in one’s 
veins? 

In “Quo Vadis” the whole Roma^ be- 
ginning with slaves carrying mosaics for theit 
refined masters, and ending with patricians, 
who were so fond of beautiful things that one 
of them for instance used to kiss at every mo- 


32 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


ment a superb vase, stands before our eyes as 
if it was reconstructed by a magical power 
from ruins and death. 

There is no better description of the burn- 
ing of Rome in any literature. While reading 
it everything turns red in one’s eyes, and im- 
mense noises fill one’s ears. And the moment 
when Christ appears on the hill to the fright- 
ened Peter, who is going to leave Rome, not 
feeling strong enough to fight with mighty 
Caesar, will remain one of the strongest pass- 
ages of the literature of the whole world. 

After having read again and again this 
great — shall I say the greatest historical nov- 
el? — and having wondered at its deep concep- 
tion, masterly execution, beautiful language, 
powerful painting of the epoch, plastic de- 
scription of customs and’ habits, enthusiasm of 
the first followers of Christ, refinement of Ro- 
man civilization, corruption of the old world. 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


33 


the question rises: What is the dominating 
idea of the author, spread out all over the 
whole book? It is the cry of Christians mur- 
dered in circuses: Pro Christo! 

Sienkiewicz searching always and continu- 
ally for a tranquil harbor from the storms of 
conscience and investigation of the tormented 
mind, finds such a harbor in the religious sen- 
timents, in lively Christian faith. This idea is 
woven as golden thread in a silk brocade, not 
only in *^Quo Vadis,” but also in all his novels. 
In 'Tire and Sword’’ his principal hero is an 
outlaw; but all his crimes, not only against 
society, but also against nature, are redeemed 
by faith, and as a consequence of it afterward 
by good deeds. In the "Children of the 
Soul,” he takes one of his principal characters 
upon one of seven Roman hills, and having 
displayed before him in the most eloquent way 

the might of the old Rome, the might as it 

3 


34 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


never existed before and perhaps never will 
exist again, he says: ‘^And from all that noth- 
ing is left only crosses! crosses! crosses!” It 
seems to us that in “Quo Vadis” Sienkiewicz 
strained all his forces to reproduce from one 
side all the power, all riches, all refinement, all 
corruption of the Roman civilization in order 
to get a better contrast with the great advant- 
ages of the cry of the living faith: Pro 
Christo! In that cry the asphyxiated not only 
in old times but in our days also find refresh- 
ment; the tormented by doubt, peace. From 
that cry flows hope, and naturally people pre- 
fer those from whom the blessing comes to 
those who curse and doom them. 

Sienkiewicz considers the Christian faith as 
the principal and even the only help which 
humanity needs to bear cheerfully the burden 
and struggle of every-day life. Equally his 
personal experience as well as his studies made 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


35 


him worship Christ. He is not one of those 
who say that religion is good for the people 
at large. He does not admit such a shade of 
contempt in a question touching so near the 
human heart. He knows that every one is a 
man in the presence of sorrow and the conun- 
drum of fate, contradiction of justice, tearing 
of death, and uneasiness of hope. He believes 
that the only way to cross the precipice is the 
flight with the wings of faith, the precipice 
made between the submission to general and 
absolute laws and the confidence in the infinite 
goodness of the Father. 

The time passes and carries with it people 
and doctrines and systems. Many authors 
left as the heritage to civilization rows of 
books, and in those books scepticism, indiffer- 
ence, doubt, lack of precision and decision. 

But the last symptoms in the literature show 
us that the Stoicism is not sufficient for our 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


3t) 

generation, not satisfied with Marcus Aurel- 
ius’s gospel, which was not sufficient even to 
that brilliant Sienkiewicz’s Roman arbiter ele- 
gantiaruin, the over-refined patrician Petron- 
ius. A nation which desired to live, and does 
not wish either to perish in the desert or be 
drowned in the mud, needs such a great help 
which only religion gives. The history is not 
only magister vitae, but also it is the master of 
conscience. 

Literature has in Sienkiewicz a great poet — 
epical as well as lyrical. 

I shall not mourn, although I appreciate the 
justified complaint about objectivity in belles 
lettres. But now there is no question what 
poetry will be; there is the question wLether 
it will be, and I believe that society, being 
tired with Zola’s realism and its caricature, not 
with the picturesqueness of Loti, but with 
catalogues of painter’s colors; not with the 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


37 


depth of Ibsen, but the oddness of his imita- 
tors — it seems to me that society will hate the 
poetry which discusses and philosophizes, 
wishes to paint but does not feel, makes arche- 
ology but does not give impressions, and that 
people will turn to the poetry as it was in the 
beginning, what is in its deepest essence, to 
the flight of single words, to the interior mel- 
ody, to the song — the art of sounds being the 
greatest art. I believe that if in the future 
the poetry will find listeners, they will repeat 
to the poets the words of Paul Verlaine, whom 
by too summary judgment they count among 
incomprehensible originals: 

la 7nusique encore et ioujours.** 

And nobody need be afraid from a social 
point of view, for Sienkiewicz’s objectivity. 
It is a manly lyricism as well as epic, made 
deep by the knowledge of the life, sustained 


38 


HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. 


by thinking, until now perhaps unconscious 
of itself, the poetry of a writer who walked 
many roads, studied many things, knew much 
bitterness, ridiculed many triflings, and then 
he perceived that a man like himself has only 
one aim: above human affairs ‘‘to spin the 
love, as the silkworm spins its web.” 

S. C. DE SOISSONS. 

“The University,” Cambridge, Mass. 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 





THE NEW SOLDIER. 


CHAPTER 1. 

WHEREIN WE BECOME ACQUAINTED WITH 
THE HERO. 

The courtroom of Blockhead, a small vil- 
lage, was so quiet that the occupants might 
hear their own breath. Franz Burak, the 
judge, who was a country-bred man of mature 
age, occupied his seat at the court's desk and 
was concentrating his whole mind upon scrib- 
bling certain observations on a sheet of paper, 
while Pan Zolzikiewicz, his amanuensis, a 
young and promising fellow, carried on a per- 
petual skirmish with the flies in one of the 
window-recesses. 

The courtroom fairly swarmed with flies. 

The walls had received innumerable decora- 
41 


42 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


tions in miniature from them, and original col- 
ors were entirely effaced. Little winged ver- 
min covered the picture above the table, and 
haunted the documents, the seal, the crucifix 
and the record books, extending their excur- 
sions even as far as the person of the judge, as 
if he were of no more account than a common 
bailiff. But the pomatumed head of Pan Zol- 
zikiewicz, with its penetrating odor of cloves, 
seemed more inviting to them than all other 
objects in the room. — Large swarms were 
constantly circling about him, settling about 
the crown of his head and covering it like an 
animated, movable, black cloud. From time 
to time Pan Zolzikiewicz would cautiously lift 
his hand and let it swiftly fall among the hum- 
ming multitude, whereupon a smack was 
heard, and the swarm would rise. Then Pan 
Zolzikiewicz bent his head and gathered the 
dead bodies from the various places where the 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


43 ' 


bloody battle had raged. The carcasses landed 
on the floor. 

It was nearly four o’clock in the afternoon, 
and a hush had fallen upon the village, every 
one being at work in the fields. Outside the 
windows of the court-house a cow would oc- 
casionally rub her back against the wall and 
thrust her moist, foamy muzzle through the 
opening. Sometimes she would throw back 
her heavy head in defiance of the flies, and 
grate her horns against the wall. When this 
occurred the judge looked up and exclaimed: 

‘‘Hah, ni see you !” 

From time to time he would muster his ap- 
pearance in a mirror near one of the windows. 
At length he broke the silence: 

“Pan Zolzikiewicz,” said he, “you had bet- 
ter prepare the report. I cannot manage it, — 
and then, you are my assistant.” 

But Pan Zolzikiewicz was out of sorts, and 


44 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


in such cases the judge was obliged to dis- 
charge his duties alone. 

‘^And what if I am?” returned the amanu- 
ensis, with a sneer. ‘The assistant was ap- 
pointed with a view of serving the Mayor and 
the council, but judges in your position gen- 
erally do their own writing.” 

In a tone of supreme contempt he added: 

“After all, what is a judge? — A peasant, 
that’s all. Do what you please, a peasant will 
always remain a peasant.” 

He stopped and began arranging his hair 
before the mirror. The judge felt there was 
an opportunity of boasting, so he exclaimed: 

“What is the matter with you? As if I had 
not enjoyed the privilege of taking tea with 
the Commissioner!” 

“Indeed, — tea!” haughtily replied Zolzikie- 
wicz. “Probably even without arrack?” 

“I beg your pardon ; — with arrack.” 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


45 


‘‘I don’t care. — Don’t you expect me to 
write that report.” 

‘‘Why, if you want to be considered better 
tha'n your work,” cried the angry judge, “for 
what reason did you seek the place you now 
hold?” 

“Did I ask you for it? My acquaintance 
with the Commissioner — ” 

“No beneficial acquaintance, I dare say, so 
far as he is concerned, — as soon as he puts in 
appearance your love of talking seems to van- 
ish.” 

“Burak, Burak, you cannot hold your 
tongue. Your peasants as well as my appoint- 
ment weigh like chains upon me. A man of 
education and attainments is reduced to an 
ordinary being among you. Why, some time 
when my anger is uppermost, — when my tem- 
per gets the best of me — I may throw the ap- 
pointment before your feet,” 


46 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


“Pshaw! What do you propose to do in 
that case?” 

“Never mind! At least I shall not become a 
burden to you. A man of education will al- 
ways pull through somehow, so you need not 
give yourself any trouble. Yesterday Stol- 
bicki, the Auditor, said to me: ‘Well, Zolzi- 
kiewicz, I am sorry we cannot make you Dep- 
uty Auditor. You seem to hear the grass 
grow.’ — He would not say so to a mere fool, 
would he? — Ton my soul, I don’t even care to 
spit at the position I now hold. A man of 
education — ” 

“Oh, but the world has not yet come to an 
end.” 

“That’s quite true. You are likely to be at 
liberty to dip your brush and smear the pages 
of a good many sheets of paper before dooms- 
day’s stick will touch your shoulders.” 

The judge scratched the back of his head 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


'4r 

with one hand and commenced demonstrating 
with the other. 

“You are always showing fight at first 
sight,” said he. 

“Why do you permit yourself, then, talking- 
such nonsense?” 

“We’d better drop the matter.” 

For another while the courtroom was quiet, 
while Burak’s pen labored its way along the 
pages of the document. At length he straight- 
ened himself, wiped the pen on one of his coat 
tails and resumed in a drowsy tone: 

“Thank God, it is finished.” 

“Let us hear what you’ve scratched on the 
paper.” 

“Scratched or not. I’ve written all that is 
necessary.” 

“Read.” 

The judge seized the document with both 
hands and read: 


48 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


‘To the judge of the Doorchain District. In 
the name of Father, and of the Son, and of the 
Holy Ghost, Amen. Commissioner ordered 
the prescription lists of the Holy Virgin and 
everybody must be there, and unless you have 
complied with this order in eighteen days both 
you and I will receive a blow-up, which I wish 
for both of us. Amen.’’ 

The venerable village magistrate had ob- 
served how the concluding remarks of the 
minister’s Sunday’s sermon never failed to 
produce a marked degree of reverence among 
the listeners. So he considered ecclesiastical 
phraseology of great importance in official 
communications. To his great surprise Zol- 
zikiewicz, however, received the reading with 
a loud peal of laughter. 

“So that is your communication?” 

“Can you write it better?” asked Burak. 

“Of course I can — and will. Indeed, the 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


49; 


village of Blockhead should be saved from 
such a humiliation.^’ 

Whereupon Zolzikiewicz seated himself at 
the desk, took up a pen, produced divers im- 
posing circles in the air, by way of prepara- 
tion, and commenced writing rapidly. In a 
short while the notification was finished, and 
the young man, running his fingers through 
his hair, read as follows: 

‘The District Judge of Blockhead 
to 

The District Judge of Doorchain. 

“By order of the proper authorities there 
should be taken immediate steps to complete 
and forward the yearly proscription lists. I 
am obliged, therefore, to ask you to forward 
the lists to this office before the expiration of 
eighteen days. The persons that may now 
be found in other districts should receive their 
summons without delay, in order that they 
may be ready to act upon eventual orders at 
the earliest possible time.” 

4 


50 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


The ears of the judge drank with avidity the 
sound of these clear and well-framed state- 
ments. His countenance assumed an expres- 
sion of deep appreciation, even of religious de- 
votion. How beautiful the phrase was: “By 
order of the proper authorities — He rev- 
ered any well-executed sentence, but could not 
find the proper expressions when occasions 
for their use would arise. Zolzikiewicz, how- 
ever, seemed to find the ideal words at once; 
even the clerks in the county offices could not 
successfully compete with him. When Zol- 
zikiewicz had revised his i’s and t’s it only re- 
mained to press the handle of the great seal 
until the table shook, and to say, with an air 
of relief: "'Basta/' 

“Ye — es,^’ said the judge, “a head is — is a 
head, and no mistake.’' 

“Oh,” observed Zolzikiewicz, less impetu- 
ous than before, “I think I am justified in as- 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


51 


suming’ the title of a writer — one who writes 
books, you know.’’ 

‘Hndeed? Do you write books?” 

^'Why, you ought to know. — ^Who is keep- 
ing the books of the township?” 

^That is quite right,” assented Burak. — 
After a pause he added: ^The lists will be for- 
warded without delay.” 

“Yes, and then you are bound to rid us of 
those good-for-nothing fellows.” 

“I am afraid that God, himself, could not rid 
us of them.” 

“I’ll tell you, — the Commissioner will lodge 
a complaint against the management of Block- 
head. The men are always hanging about 
the public-house, says he. Burak won’t 
look after them, so the fault will fall to his 
share.” 

“I know it all,” returned the judge. “Every- 
thing is laid upon my shoulders. The court 


52 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


pronounces one sentence after another, — isn’t 
that enough? Why do they blame me for the 
people’s shortcomings?” 

At this moment the cow jerked her head 
against the wall with such a force that the 
whole building shook under it. Burak cried 
furiously: 

‘‘Hello, there! Schock million !” 

The amanuensis, who had remained sitting 
at the desk, resumed his exercise before the 
mirror. 

“You are the one to blame,” resumed he. 
^‘Why don’t you draw the reins more tight? — 
Their drinking is bound to bear evil fruits. 
One branded sheep is leading the rest, and 
one by one seeks the bar-room.” 

“Upon my word, I am not aware of any 
heavy drinking. Those who work in the fields 
are obliged to satisfy their thirst.” 

“There will be no order among the work- 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


53 


men, until we get rid of Rzepa, depend upon 
that.’’ 

“Well, can I go and tear his head off?” 

“Not exactly. But the proscribing of sol- 
diers is in progress, and he will be taken. That 
settles it.” 

“But he is married. They have a boy one 
year old.” 

“Who cares for that? — Who knows it? He 
may appeal to the authorities; he may go and 
complain of the decision, but vdio will listen 
to him? At the time of recruiting no one can 
think of that.” 

“Zolzikiewicz, Zolzikiewicz! You give but 
few thoughts to the drunkard, but a great deal 
to the woman, and that is a deadly sin.” 

“That concerns nobody. It seems more 
natural that you should think of your own son, 
who is now nineteen years old, and must join 
the forces.’' 


54 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


‘‘Yes, I know. But it won't come to that. 
If there is no other way I shall be compelled 
to buy him out." 

“Oh, if you are provided with ample 
means — " 

“With God’s help I shall manage to bring it 
together." 

“Do you really intend to pay eight hundred 
rubles?" 

“If I decide to pay the money I’ll do it, and 
if I stay, with God’s help, in my present posi- 
tion, a couple of years will bring it back." 

“You had better decide at once. I, myself, 
must keep in mind the necessity of providing 
certain means for my own welfare. A gentle- 
man of education always is bound to have con- 
siderable expense, — far exceeding that of an 
ordinary man. If Rzepa’s name were placed 
on the list instead of that of your son, — ^why, 
then you would avoid paying out so much 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


55 


money. — Eight hundred rubles, think of it! 
One does not find so much money in the 
street.” , 

The judge listened eagerly. The hope of 
saving such a large sum of money began to ex^ 
ert its influence upon him. 

“Well,” said he at length, “but it is a dan- 
gerous affair.” 

“You need not be the least concerned about 
that.” 

“I am afraid you concern yourself about it 
in such a way that all the blame falls upon 
me, if — ” 

“All right! Go and pay the money, if you 
like.” 

“I don’t say that I would be the least sorry, 
if—” 

“Maybe you would not. If you are sure 
that the money will be — refunded, there is no 
cause for regret. But you are reckoning with- 


56 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


out your host. I don't know everything, — of 
course not, but if I should communicate what 
I do know, then — ” 

‘‘You receive a larger allowance than I do." 

“I did not refer to that, but to former 
times." 

“That does not frighten me. I did my 
duty." 

“Very well. No doubt you would clean 
yourself on the proper occasion." 

Having delivered himself of this remark the 
amanuensis took up his green cap and left the 
office. The sun was already going down, and 
one group of laborers after another returned 
from the fields. On passing the amanuensis 
the first of these, consisting of five reapers who 
carried home-made scythes on their shoulders, 
reverently greeted with “The Lord be 
praised"; whereupon the young official nodded 
his pomatumed head. A conventional reply 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


57 


would never have befitted a man of education. 
Every one was familiar with the fact that Pan 
Zolzikiewicz was a man of great attainments; 
it could be subjected to doubt only by such, 
whose evil thoughts were always roused when- 
ever one of their fellow-beings happened to 
raise his head above the level of the insignifi- 
cant multitudes. 

If we possessed a complete record of the 
lives of all our illustrious men, — and^ no 
doubt, we shall be furnished with such a rec- 
ord, — it would be learned that our hero was 
born at Jackfield, the principal town of the 
District of Jackfield, to which belonged also 
the village of Blockhead. At the age of sev- 
enteen he entered the second class in the Gym- 
nasium, and would have continued his rapid 
progress if the outbreak of stormy times had 
not put a stop to the scientific career he had 
so well begun. Zolzikiewicz, prompted by 


58 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


the eagerness peculiar to youthful minds, 
placed himself at the head of a faction of dis- 
satisfied students, and organized a mock ser- 
enade intended as a well-deserved punishment 
for the unjust teachers. He had long enter- 
tained a grudge against the latter, who consti- 
tuted a serious opposition against the prog- 
ress of certain students. — Upon this he tore 
his books and lecture notes into fragments and 
entered a fresh profession. On this new road 
he had progressed as far as the position of a 
clerkship in a public office, while his thoughts 
revolved about the desirable place of a higher 
official, as we already heard. In spite of these 
efforts to better his position the amanuensis 
found himself, however, quite agreeably situ- 
ated. Knowledge will always gain the recog- 
nition she deserves. As our hero knew some 
facts about nearly every inhabitant of the 
Jackfield district he was treated with a marked 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


59 


degree of consideration mingled with precau- 
tion, by every one. Nobody cared to cause 
any ill-feeling to spring up between himself 
and the illustrious amanuensis. Persons of in- 
telligence greeted him; the peasants paid him 
due reverence by pulling off, sometimes at a 
considerable distance, their caps, and uttering 
their wonted salute: ‘The Lord be praised.'^ 
To avoid false deductions it may be well to 
state at once the reason why Pan Zolzikiewicz 
failed to return the customary response: “In 
eternity, amen!” It has been already men- 
tioned that he was convinced of the impro- 
priety, for a man of education, of returning the 
salutation. But there were yet other urgent 
motives at the bottom of this matter. Thor- 
oughly independent characters are generally 
radical in the extreme, and Pan Zolzikiewicz 
had long ago reached the result that the soul 
was “air and nothing else.” Besides, the aman- 


60 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


uensis had lately received from a Warsaw 
bookseller such works as “Isabella of Spain, or 
the Mysteries of the Spanish Court.’’ This 
renowned novel had pleased him so much, 
nay, enraptured him to such an extent that he 
was seriously meditating upon giving up his 
glorious prospects at home and going to 
Spain. — “If Marfori succeeded,” thought he, 
“why should I not succeed as well!” — Indeed, 
he might have undertaken the journey, espe- 
cially since the conviction grew upon him that 
“a man is leading a downright ruinous life in 
this miserable country,” but happily different 
circumstances interfered, as our tale will duly 
relate. 

One of the results of a frequent reading of 
Herr Breslauer’s periodically published edition 
of the famous “Isabella of Spain” was that Pan 
Zolzikiewicz had acquired a most skeptical 
view of ecclesiasts, as well as of all matters di- 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


61 


rectly or indirectly touching upon clerical af- 
fairs. For that reason he did not return the 
customary: ‘In eternity, amen,’^ to the reap- 
ers who greeted him, but pursued his way with 
measured steps until reaching a party of girls 
who were on their way home from the fields, 
with sickles and other farm implements on 
their shoulders. Then Pan Zolzikiewicz saw 
fit to open his mouth and say: “How do you 
do, birdies!” whereupon he placed himself on a 
narrow path close to the edge of a pool, where 
the road was dissolved in foot-paths leading 
into different directions, and robbed each girl, 
they all being forced to pass him, of a kiss, and 
thrust them, one by one, into the pool. The 
result was a general disturbance and much 
lamentation, yet the amanuensis overheard, 
with considerable satisfaction, a conversation 
between some of the “birdies,” one of whom 
declared that he was “anyhow a handsome 


62 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


gentleman.’’ — “And as dainty as an apple/^ 
continued some one. — A third said: “His head 
smells exactly like a rose; one will almost faint 
in his arms.” — The object of this eulogy pro- 
ceeded on his way, and thoughts followed 
fast. Suddenly he stopped, hearing somebody 
pronounce his name behind a dense hawthorn 
hedge that separated the dwellings from the 
path on which he was walking. There was a 
fruit garden with bee-hives behind the partic- 
ular spot where he had stopped, and a short 
distance away two peasant women were eag- 
erly discussing divers topics of interest. One 
peeled some potatoes which were lying in her 
lap; the other talked. 

“Oh, I am so afraid,” said she, “I am so 
afraid, my dear, that they shall take my Frank 
away from me and make a soldier of him. The 
thought of it makes me shudder all over the 
body.” 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


63 


and have a talk with the clerk,” an- 
swered the other, ‘‘go and consult him about 
it. Unless he lends his assistance nothing at 
all can be done.” 

“Stachowa, dear, how can I? Nobody can 
appear before him with empty hands. It’s dif- 
ferent with the judge, for if you bring him a 
dish of crayfish, or butter, or a bunch of flax, 
or a hen, he is satisfied. He rejects nothing. 
But such things do not count with the clerk, 
he doesn’t even glance at them. Before him 
you must open the knot in your handkerchief 
and fetch out a ruble.” 

— “You won’t find me depriving you of 
your eggs or hens,” murmured the clerk be- 
hind the hedge. “It is far below me to re- 
ceive such paltry bribes. Bring the fowls to 
the judge.” 

Thus reflecting, he started to break through 
the hedge and accost the women, when sud- 


64 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


denly the rattling of a britschka from behind 
caused him to glance around. In the carriage 
lounged a young man with his cap on one side 
of the head and a cigarette between his lips; 
the driver was Frank, the same youth of whom 
the women had talked a moment ago. On 
seeing Pan Zolzikiewicz, the student — for 
such the occupant was — leaned over the side 
of the britschka, extended his hand toward the 
amanuensis, and exclaimed: 

*‘How do you find yourself. Pan Zolzikie- 
wicz! Anything new? — Do you yet use a 
couple of inches of pomade?’' 

“Servant, sir,” said Zolzikiewicz with a re- 
spectful bow, but added, as the carriage con- 
tinued its course up the road: 

“There, go and break yx)ur neck — I wish 
you would.” 

The student, on his part, was not very fond 
of the good amanuensis. A cousin of the 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


65 


magnate Skorabiewsky, he generally passed 
his. summer vacations at the castle. Zolzi- 
kiewicz hated him with all his heart, and even 
feared him like fire on account of his sharp 
tongue. Pan Zolzikiewicz was frequently the 
object of certain practical jokes instigated by 
the Baron’s cousin, who was, after all, the only 
person who cared nothing about the almighty 
clerk. Once he dared even to walk into the 
council-room during a session, and tell him 
that he was too stupid even to command the 
respect of the peasants. Pan Zolzikiewicz 
would fain have revenged this insult, but the 
student was not within his reach, and knew it. 
Of nearly all others he knew some disagreea^ 
ble fact or circumstance, but of the student 
absolutely nothing. The young man’s ar^ 
rival was unpleasant to the amanuensis in more 
than one respect, and this official continued 
his way while ominous clouds gathered about 

5 


66 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


his forehead. Opposite the entrance of a hut 
that lay somewhat sheltered from the road he 
stopped, and for a moment his dark features 
lighted up with pleasure. The hut looked, if 
possible, more dismal than the rest, but it was 
in better repair, the grounds were swept, and 
the little courtyard strewed with calmus. 
Near the hedge there lay a pile of fuel, and in 
the billet stuck an ax. In a short distance a 
barn and an open shed for the accommodation 
of the cattle had been built, the whole estab- 
lishment being surrounded by a hedge. A 
horse stood in the adjacent pasture, enjoying 
the fresh grass and occasionally giving vent to 
his feelings in a joyous canter. There was a 
small pile of straw, litter and manure in front 
of the barn, where two pigs slumbered quiet- 
ly amidst a flock of restless ducks. In the 
neighborhood of the woodpile there was a big 
rooster, which scratched up dirt and chips of 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


67 


wood, and summoned the hens to the spot, 
whenever he happened to find a grain or a 
worm. The hens duly came rushing to the 
spot, as if running a race, fought over the dain- 
ties, fought one another, and used their bills 
with a good will. 

Near the door of the hut sat a young peas- 
ant woman, beating hemp and singing a mel- 
ancholy tune. A dog lay near her with out- 
stretched legs, busily engaged in catching 
flies that descended upon one of his ears which 
had been wounded in some way. 

The woman was scarcely twenty years old, 
beautiful and attractive. She wore one of the 
common matron’s caps and a white blouse 
laced together with red bands. She looked 
the very picture of health and strength, with’ 
broad shoulders and hips, and graceful curves 
about her neck and waist. Her features were 
finely cut, the head small and her skin pale, 


68 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


with a golden tinge breathed over it by the 
sun’s blaze, large eyes of a dark shade, eye- 
brows as regular as if painted with a brush, 
a small, thin nose and ^'cherry lips.” Her 
beautiful, black hair found its way out under 
the edges of the cap. 

As the amanuensis approached the house, 
the dog arose, and began, with his tail between 
his legs, to growl, occasionally showing his 
rows of white, shining teeth. 

'‘Down with you, Robert,” commanded the 
woman, in a fine, soft tone. “There, behave 
yourself.” 

“Good evening, Rzepowa,”* commenced 
the amanuensis. 

“Good evening to you, sir,” returned the 
peasant woman, continuing to beat her hemp. 

“Your husband at home?” 

“At work in the woods.” 


♦ Rzepowa, the wife of Rzepa. 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


69 


^That’s too bad. I have an official commu- 
nication to serve on him.” 

Official communications always suggest 
something unpleasant to common people. 
Rzepa’s wife abandoned her work, eyed the 
official bearer of the official communication 
anxiously, and said, in an unsteady tone: 

^‘Well, what is it?” 

In the meantime, the amanuensis had ap- 
proached her quite closely. 

“Let me rob you of a kiss, and I will tell 
you.” 

“I shall not allow that,” replied the woman. 

But the amanuensis had already clasped her 
in his arms and was struggling with her. 

“Sir — I shall certainly call some one — ” 
cried the Rzepowa, tearing herself away from 
him. 

“My darling Rzepowa, — Marysiw!’’ 

“Sir, — don’t trouble me. Sir I!” 


70 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


She again attempted to disengage herself, 
but Zolzikiewicz, too, was strong, and did not 
let her loose. Now the dog came to her as- 
sistance. The hair about his neck bulged 
out like a mane, as he jumped upon the clerk 
with a furious barking. As the honorable rep- 
resentative of public authority wore a rather 
short coat, the dog chose to attack him in a 
different place. Having obtained a good 
hold, and feeling a fair proportion of nankeen 
and flesh between his teeth, he tossed his head 
furiously and tore at the clerk with all his 
might. 

‘‘Jesus, Maria!” cried Zolzikiewicz, wholly 
forgetting that he belonged aux esprits forts. 

But the dog refused to allow his prey to es- 
cape, and it was not until the clerk seized a 
club and knocked about him right and left, 
that the dog, receiving a powerful blow at his 
flank, jumped out of reach, uttering a howl of 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


71 


pain. He renewed his attack, however, in no 
time. 

“Call the dog — call away that devil!” cried 
the amanuensis, reaching out for a desperate 
blow with hi-s club. 

The Rzepowa called the dog back and 
chased him out of the yard. Whereupon the 
two persons eyed each other for a while, in 
silence. 

“How unfortunate,” finally said the woman, 
frightened at the bloody turn of matters. 
“How can you detect anything unusual in 
me?” 

“I swear you vengeance,” cried the aman- 
uensis, in a tragical tone. — “Vengeance, I tell 
you! — Rzepa will be put on the list of pro- 
scribed soldiers. — I wanted to offer my pro- 
tection, — but now — ah, you will bow down 
before me yet. — I shall revenge this insult on 
both of you!” 


72 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


The poor woman turned pale, as if some 
one had fetched her a violent blow on the 
head. She folded her hands, opened her 
mouth and appeared to struggle for words; 
but in the meantime the clerk picked up his 
green cap, which had fallen to the ground in 
the struggle, and walked rapidly away, swing- 
ing the club in his one hand and holding to- 
gether the greatly damaged nankeen inexpres- 
sibles with the other. 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


73 


CHAPTER II. 

WHEREIN WE BECOME ACQUAINTED WITH 
OTHER PERSONS AND OTHER PLACES. 

An hour later Rzepa and Lukasch, another 
wood-cutter, returned from the woods in one 
of the carts belonging to the owner of the 
neighboring castle. Rzepa was a good look- 
ing, able-bodied peasant, straight as a poplar 
and as symmetrical as if cut with an ax. He 
now spent every day in the forest, as the 
owner had permitted the part of it on which 
no mortgages rested, to pass into the hands 
of the Jews. Consequently, the pines were 
cut down. Rzepa was at present earning 
good wages, for he was a skillful workman. 
When he spat in his hands, seized his ax and 
let it fall amidst panting and muffled ejacula- 


74 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


tions, the trees would quiver, and chips would 
fly about in all directions. In loading the 
wagons with trunks he was also first man. 
The Jews, who walked about with carpenter’s 
rules in their hands, scanning the tree-tops as 
if keeping a lookout for crows’ nests, won- 
dered at his great physical strength. Drissl* 
the wealthy merchant from Jackfield, would 
always say: 

‘There, Rzepa, — Deuce take you — look, 
here are six groschen to pay for a drink; no, 
wait, — here are five groschen to pay for a 
drink.” 

Rzepa shrugged his shoulders, swung the 
ax and let it down with full force; sometimes 
his voice is heard far through the woods. 

“Hooh! Hoo— oop!” 

The voice strikes the trunks of the trees, and 
an echo returns from far away. Then, for 
some time nothing is heard save the click of 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


75 


the ax, or the pines repeat in a whisper to one 
another what the woods are saying. And 
sometimes the wood-cutters sing a song, led 
by Rzepa, of course, who first taught them the 
words : 


“Oh, say, who raises now his voice? 


Hooh! 

Oh, say whence comes this dreadful noise? 

Hooh! 


The fly was falling from the oak, 
Unhappily his arm he broke. 
The fly bewails her lot, oh 


Hooh! 

Hooh! 

Hooh! 


While others ask her eagerly 
Should we not call the doctor? 


Hooh! 

Hooh! 


—Ah, me, I need no help no more, 

Hooh! 

No herb, no drug, in earthdom found. 

Hooh! 


Just go and bury me in the ground. 

Hooh!” 


In the public-room he was also a prominent 


76 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


figure, only he had a weak point in his love of 
strong drink and his aptitude for quarrel, when 
intoxicated. Once he cut such a hole in the 
head of one of the Baron’s servants that the 
housekeeper swore one could plainly see the 
man’s soul through it. On another occasion, 
and when only seventeen years of age, he 
waged war on some soldiers who had returned 
home during vacation. Pan Skorabiewsky, 
who had yet at that time charge of the juris- 
diction, had the boy summoned before him in 
his office, and, fetching him a couple of blows 
on the head — merely for show, said, in a gen- 
tle tone: 

“Rzepa, have fear before God. How could 
you get into a fight with all of them — all 
seven?” 

'‘Well, your Honor,” replied Rzepa. "The 
fact is their feet gave way — they were tired out 
with their long march.” 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


7 ? 


Of course, the Baron got the matter settled 
quietly. On former occasions he had evinced 
quite unusual interest in Rzepa’s welfare, and 
some women even whispered in the corners 
that Rzepa might likely be his son. Prob- 
ably this was mere slander, although every one 
knew the boy’s mother, no one his father. As 
for the young man, himself, he now enjoyed 
the privilege of a pensioner, figuring as the 
owner of three acres of land. Thus, he was 
already in position to work his own scib and, 
being healthy and active, succeeded well in 
every respect. He married a woman, better 
than whom no one could be found, even by 
searching with lanterns, and so it was that 
everything about him promised well, save his 
unfortunate addiction to whisky. In this re- 
spect he was unapproachable to reason. 
When anybody upbraided him on this account 
he would answer: 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


Y8 

“Well, I am drinking, but no one except 1^ 
myself, loses money by it. And what is that 
to you?’’ 

The only person in the village whom he 
feared and to whom he looked up with a 
whole world of respect, was the amanuensis. 
iWhen at a distance he caught a glimpse of 
the green cap, the flat nose and the pointed 
beard, all of which was carried along by a pair 
of long, thin legs, he at once fumbled for his 
hat. And then, Zolzikiewicz had a hold on 
Rzepa. Once, amidst certain trouble and up- 
roar in certain quarters, Rzepa had been com- 
missioned to bring certain documents out of 
the way, which he had done. At that time he 
was merely a boy, who tended geese and 
swine, yet he had fear that some time some 
one might appear and question him concern- 
ing these documents. And so he feared the 
clerk. 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


79 


Such was Rzepa. — As he entered his hut, 
returning home from the woods, his wife came 
running toward him, crying bitterly and ex- 
claiming: 

''Ah, my poor eyes shall not see you for 
ever, ever so long. I shall not wash for you, 
I shall not boil for you. Poor fellow, you will 
be brought away to the farthest end of the 
world.” 

"Did you eat poison rush?” inquired Rzepa, 
quite astonished, "or have you been stung by 
a hornet?” 

"I did not eat any poison rush,” replied she, 
"nor has any hornet stung me; but the clerk 
called and said you would not avoid being 
taken soldier. — Great heavens! You will be 
brought to the world’s end.” 

Now he began to question her, asking what 
had happened, and when, and she told him all, 
omitting only the clerk’s amorous approaches. 


80 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


She feared, namely, that Rzepa might tell the 
clerk some foolish things, or even — God for- 
bid — rush upon him, thus giving him just 
cause for complaint. 

‘‘You little fool,” finally said Rzepa, “why 
do you make so much of nothing? They can- 
not enlist me, I am already beyond the limit of 
age. And then, I own this house, the ground 
and — and you, little fool, — and this young- 
ster.” 

He pointed to a cradle, where the said 
youngster, a boy one year old, sprawled and 
tossed himself about, filling their ears with 
his loud bragging. The woman wiped her 
eyes with her apron and said: 

“All that does not help a bit. As if he does 
not know of the papers you carried away into 
the woods.” 

Rzepa scratched his head. 

“Yes. Likely he knows. I must go and 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


81 


see him,” said he, after some meditation. 
'Trobably things are not so bad as they 
look.” 

‘'Do go and see him — do,” urged his wife, 
— and bring a ruble along. You dare not 
approach him without a ruble.” 

Rzepa took a ruble out of his little box of 
valuables and set out on his way to the clerk. 
Pan Zolzikiewicz was a bachelor and occupied 
two rooms in a small, so-called brick building 
near the village pond. The larger of the two 
rooms was empty, save for some litter and a 
pair of gaiters; the other apartment served as 
a parlor and bedroom thrown into one. There 
was a bedstead, the contents of which were 
thrown pell-mell over each other; the two 
feather-beds had been stripped of their covers, 
and feathers were scattered in all directions. 
Close to the one wall there stood a table with 

an inkstand, quills, official reports, several 

6 


82 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


parts of “Isabella of Spain/’ published by Herr 
Breslauer, two dirty English collars, a pom- 
ade-box, cigarette-paper, and a candlestick 
made of tin, with a candle. The wick of the 
latter had not been trimmed for a considera- 
ble length of time, and long flakes of molten 
tallow hung upon the fly-collar below. In 
close proximity to the window there hung a 
good-sized mirror; at the opposite wall stood 
a small chest of drawers, which was covered 
with the wearing apparel of the distinguished 
occupant of the room. There were panta- 
loons in different colors and shades, waist- 
coats of fabulous patterns, neckcloths, gloves, 
glazed boots, and even a silk hat which was 
destined to crown the venerable head of the 
clerk, whenever he was obliged to pay a visit 
to the district town of Jackfield. In addition 
to this, the clerk’s nankeen were hanging on 
the back of a chair, while the owner of the gar- 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


ss 

ments, himself, rested on the bed, occupied by- 
reading the latest issue of Herr Breslauer’s 
edition of ''Isabella of Spain.” 

His feelings — not those of Herr Breslauer, 
but the clerk’s — were of a decidedly disagree- 
able nature. And to describe in a satisfactory 
manner the extent of his physical sufferings, 
would have required the facility of a Hugo’s 
pen. The wound caused him a stinging, in- 
cessant pain. The reading of the "Isabella,” 
which would otherwise inspire into his soul a 
feeling of supreme bliss, or at least afford him 
some pleasant recreation, caused him, at pres- 
ent, only sheer disappointment, and his rage 
over the incident with Robert, the dog, grew 
rapidly into fury. He was suffering from a 
slight attack of wound-fever, and almost una- 
ble to collect his thoughts. Phantastic pic- 
tures haunted his vision all the while. He 
had just been reading of young Serrano who, 


84 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


covered with wounds, made his entry into the 
Escurial Castle, after a splendid victory over 
the Carlists. Young Isabella, pale and much 
agitated, receives him. The muslin covering 
her bosom rose and fell with the quickness of 
her breath. 

“General, are you wounded?” asked she, her 
voice quivering with emotion. 

Here the unfortunate Zolzikiewicz thought 
that he might, indeed, fill the place of Ser- 
rano. 

“Ah me, — yes, I, too, am wounded,” re- 
peats the clerk, in an undertone. — “Oh, gra- 
cious Queen, have pity. May the blessings 
of ” 

“Come and enjoy a rest. General. Tell me 
of your heroic deeds.” 

“I can tell you of my heroism, but sit down 
I can not,” cries Serrano, in great emotion. 
“Forgive, oh gracious Queen! That con- 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


85 


founded dog Don Josua, I should say 

— ah, me, how I suffer.” 

The real pain dispelled the dream, and Ser- 
rano looked about him. The candle burned 
and sputtered on the table, in consequence of 
the conflagration of a fly that had been en- 
closed in the tallow. Live flies were moving 

about the room in large numbers. So he 

has remained in his own room, after all, and 
does not find himself in the Escurial Palace? 
No Queen Isabella is there? — Now Pan Zolzi- 
kiewicz regains consciousness to its full ex- 
tent, sits up in bed, wettens a cloth in a water 
pitcher that has been placed within easy reach, 
and changes the bandage. Upon this he turns 
toward the wall, slumbers once more and re- 
sumes, between waking and sleep, his day- 
dreams. He is carried by the swiftest convey- 
ance back to the Escurial. 

''My precious Serrano, my darling,” whis- 


86 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


pers the queen. 'H, myself, will dress your 
wounds.’^ 

Serrano’s hair stood on end, and he realized 
with maddening fear his terrible position. 

How could he permit the queen to 

— ? And how could he tell her? — A cool per- 
spiration gathered on his forehead, 

when suddenly — 

The queen vanished, a door was opened, 
and on the threshold stood no less man than 
Don Josua, Serrano’s deadly foe. 

“What do you want here? — Who are you?” 
cries Serrano. 

“It’s Rzepa,” says Don Josua, in a low tone. 

Zolzikiewicz is by this time thoroughly 
wakened. The Escurial Palace is once more 
converted into his own humble abode; the 
candle burns, the flies imbedded in the tallow 
keep on sputtering in the flame, throwing 
small bluish sparks into the direction of 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


ST 

Rzepa, behind whose broad figure there 
appears an outline — an outline of — our pen 
almost refuses to put it down — ^well, there 
appears in the dark opening of the door an 
outline of — a dog, — of Robert, that ominous 
beast, who now thrusts forward his nose and 
neck. The brute fixes his glance upon the 
clerk, and seems to smile at him. Another 
torrent of cold perspiration runs down over 
the forehead of Zolzikiewicz; whose thoughts 
at once revert to the fact that Rzepa may 
crush every bone in his body, while Robert 
can 

‘’What is your business with me?” cries he, 
in a tone of some concern. 

Then Rzepa places a ruble on the table and 
says humbly: 

“Obedient servant, sir. I called to see you 

on account of of the enlistment of 

soldiers.” 


88 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


‘'You get off! Out with you, out with 
you!’’ cried Zolzikiewicz, whose courage 
awoke at once. 

In a fit of rage he already prepared for an 
onslaught on the intruders, when the Carlist 
wounds again began to torture him. He fell 
back among the pillows, and for a long while 
only muffled groans were heard in the room: 


“Ah me, ah me!' 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


89 


CHAPTER III. 

PONDERING OVER THE CASE.— HEUREKA . 

The wound became inflamed. As we can 
easily imagine our fair readers shedding tears 
over the dire misfortune of our gallant hero, it 
is but fair and just that we should prevent too 
much suffering, eventually fainting, on their 
part, by adding that fortunately the fate of our 
hero destined him to battle off the sickness, 
and not to fall before Death’s sickle. If he 
had died then and there, I must have laid 
down my pen; but as he was kept among the 
quick, our tale proceeds. 

So the wound became inflamed, but con- 
trary to all expectation this was a matter of 
pure gain to the clerk of the city council of 
Blockhead, in the most easy and natural fash- 


90 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


I 

ion imaginable. The inflammation, namely, re- 
sulted in the secretion from his head of all the 
bad juices gathered there, which were alto- 
gether eliminated, so that his brains grew 
gradually wonderfully clear, — clearer than 
they had ever been in his former days of fool- 
ish and reckless doings. A new train of ideas 
dawned before him. We are aware that he 
had become quite infatuated with Rzepa’s 
wife, which is no wonder, as she was a woman 
better or more beautiful than whom none 
could be found in the whole district of Jack- 
fleld. He was now especially concerned with 
the question of getting Rzepa, id est, her hus- 
band, out of the way. If Rzepa could be en- 
listed among the soldiers, the amanuensis 
would have no fear of his interference. It was 
no easy matter, however, to enlist Rzepa in 
the place of the judge’s son. A clerk of the 
council has some influence; but in matters re- 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


91 


lating to the proscription lists his authority 
is not the highest. There was the council, the 
military commission, and the district offices, 
and none of these authorities could be ex- 
pected to be interested in proscribing Rzepa 
instead of Burak’s son. — “The lists will be 
compared, for correction, with those of former 
years, — and what then?” asked our hero of 
himself. — Well, if the lists were compared, cor- 
rections would follow. And again, certain 
sworn and signed statements would be re- 
quired. Finally, there appeared to be no way 
in which Rzepa’s own mouth could be stopped: 
If the plan was not realized, the amanuensis 
would be reprimanded, and if everything was 
discovered he would lose his sinecure of a po- 
sition in a public office. 

Even the greatest men have acted like fools 
during their periods of passionate excitement, 
but one proof of their greatness was that they 


92 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


acknowledged their faults and redressed them 
in time. Zolzikiewicz realized that he had 
done his first foolish act by promising the 
judge to place Rzepa’s name on the proscrip- 
tion list instead of that of his son. His second 
act of that character was that of paying the 
unfortunate visit to Rzepa’s wife, frightening 
her as she sat there beating her hemp. And 
the third act on this list was done when he 
threatened her husband with enlistment in the 
army. Ah, for a truly great moment when a 
great man says to himself: ^7 am an ass /' — 
This moment had come to the village of 
Blockhead, — it had fluttered about the coun- 
try, on the wing of poesy, beneath which the 
sublime and -the commonplace are dwelling, 
side by side — when Zolzikiewicz, indeed, ut- 
tered the great word in good earnest, saying 
to himself : "7 am an ass." 

Should he now, however, give up his plans. 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


93 


after having even shed his precious blood 
(once, in a moment of agitation, he even re- 
ferred to it as his heart’s blood) for their pro- 
motion? After having sacrificed upon the 
altar of these plans a pair of new nankeen pan- 
taloons, the price of which he was yet owing 
to Srul, the tailor? Why, he had scarcely 
worn them twice ! 

Never, and again never! 

On the contrary, at present, when his bad 
intentions respecting the Rzepowa were en- 
couraged by his thirst for revenging upon her- 
self and her husband all he had suffered, Zol- 
zikiewicz swore to himself that he would for- 
ever be called a coward unless he exerted all 
possible means of leading Rzepa a life! So, 
on the first day he reflected while shifting the 
cool bandages; on the second day he com- 
bined and planned — likewise while applying 
cool compresses, — and on the third day he 


94 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


continued the use of the cold water while med- 
itating. And what were the results of these 
mental experiments? — He had found no light 
whatever. 

Then, on the fourth day, the court messen- 
ger brought from Jackfield a piece of diachy- 
lon. Zolzikiewicz smeared some of it on a 
linen rag, placed it over the wound, and — 
what a wonderful effect this drug seemed to 
have upon his mental faculties! — almost at the 
same moment he cried to himself: 

Tis found r 

In fact, his plan was perfected. 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


95 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE DEER IS TRAPPED. 

A few days hence — probably on the fifth 05 
the sixth day after the clerk’s plan had been 
conceived, — several persons were sitting to- 
gether in a private room of the Blockhead inn. 
The men were Burak, the judge, Gamula, one 
of the court assessors, and young Rzepa. 

The judge touched his glass with his lips. 

“Don’t quarrel over the Emperor’s beard,” 
said he at length. 

“And I say that the Frenchmen will never 
surrender to the Prussians,” cried Gamula, 
striking the table with his fist. 

“Oh, those Prussians — those rascals are 
cunning dogs,” objected Rzepa. 

“And what with their cunning? The Turcs 


96 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


are going to help the Frenchmen, and those 
Turcs, you know, are wonderfully strong.” 

‘‘Stuff and nonsense, I tell you! Why, 
Harubanda* is stronger than any of them.” 

“There you are right, I admit. But where 
shall any of them find his assistance?” 

“We shan’t need to look very far, I think,’^ 
returned Rzepa. “Didn’t people say that he 
had already sailed up the Weichsel River with 
his fleet and a tremendous army? The War- 
saw beer did not agree with him, they say, for 
he likes good eating and drinking, and so he 
turned right around and sailed back from 
where he came.” 

“That cuts no figure,” replied Gamula. 
“Every Suabian is a Jew.” 

“Well, but Harubanda is no Jew.” 

“What countryman is he, then?” 


* I. e., Garibaldi. 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


97 . 


“An emperor, of course. That's what he 
is." 

“You seem to be quite well informed.” 

“Well, you know these things as well as I 
do, — don’t you?” 

“Say, Rzepa,” returned Gamula, in a tone 
of soberness, “can you tell me the name of the 
first man who lived on earth?” 

“Certainly. ’Tw^as Adam.” 

“Right. — But do you know his surname?” 

“How could I know his surname?” 

“Why, I know it. I can tell you right here 
that it was Allein/' 

“Oh, you’re only joking,” said Rzepa. 

“You don’t believe it. Listen, then: 

Meeresstern, den der Herr 
Mil seiner Milch ge^iahrt; 
Todeskeim, den gepfropft 
Der erste Mensch allein 

— Do you see? His surname was Allein!'* 
T 


98 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


'‘Ye — es/’ mused Rzepa, “that sounds true 
enough.” 

“Better have a fresh glass,” suggested the 
judge, slighting the subject of the conversa- 
tion altogether. 

“Your health. Uncle!” 

“Your health,” repeated the young man. 

“Chajion!”* 

“Schulim!”* 

“The Lord bless us.” 

All three drank, but as the Franco-Prus- 
sian war had just broken out, Gamula, the as- 
sessor, turned once more his attention to poli- 
tics. 

“Leave those affairs where they are,” 
proposed Burak in a little while. “Let us 
drink.” 

“Yes, the Lord bless us.” 

* Chajion, Schulim, — life, peace, — ^two Hebrew 
phrases of greeting that peasants often learn from the 
inn-keeper. — Transl. 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


99 


“The Lord have mercy.’’ 

“There, your health!” 

They again emptied their glasses, and as 
they were drinking arrack, which flew into 
their heads, Rzepa set down his glass 
with some violence in his movements, and 
cried : 

“Ah, splendid! Makes one long for more.” 

“Let’s take one more,” again suggested 
Burak. 

“Good!— Fill up!” 

Rzepa’s head grew more and more flushed,, 
but the judge continued to fill his glass. 

“What I was going to say — ” observed the 
judge presently; “even though some of us may 
be strong enough to throw a sack of peas over 
his shoulder with one hand, we are afraid of 
going to war.” 

“What is there to be afraid of? — Why, if 
a man gets into battle he has nothing to do 


100 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


but knock about him, as b€st he can.’' 

“Some men,” remarked Gamula, “some 
men are small and brave, others may be large 
and timid.” 

“There you said a lie,” roared Rzepa. — “I 
am no coward.” 

“Nobody knows — ” observed Gamula, 
shaking his head. 

“And I tell you,” continued the wood-cut- 
ter, displaying a clenched hand scarcely in- 
ferior in size to a loaf of bread, “that if I should 
ever take a notion to insert this fellow among 
your ribs, you would collapse like an old, 
dried-out hogshead.” 

“Maybe, and maybe not.” 

“Do you want to try?” 

“Hold your peace,” interposed the judge. 
“You need not pitch into each other on ac- 
count of such a trifling matter. — Better drink 
another glass.” 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


101 


So they did, but Burak and Gamula merely 
sipped a few drops, while Rzepa flung the 
contents of the glass down into his throat so 
eagerly that a thousand lights flickered before 
his eyes. 

“Hold your peace,’’ repeated Burak, — “and 
embrace each other.” 

The two men did so, kissed each other, and 
Rzepa wept aloud — a sure sign of his com- 
plete intoxication. Whereupon he com- 
menced to relate, in pitiful tones, how a well 
nourished calf had fallen down, stone dead, in 
his barn, two weeks ago. 

“Oh, what a calf the Lord took home,’^ 
cried he, in a tone of pitiful regret. 

“Don’t feel down-hearted on that account,’^ 
said Burak. “The district has ordered that 
henceforth the privilege of utilizing the forest 
of which the barony possessed itself many 
years ago, shall be vested with the township.’^ 


102 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


‘That’s only right and just,” returned 
Rzepa; “why, the Baron never planted a tree 
there.” — And he continued as before: “Ah, 
what a calf that was! Whenever he happened 
to kick the cow while sucking, she would 
jump almost to the roof.” 

“The clerk said ” 

“What did the clerk say?” interrupted 
Rzepa, quite fiercely.“I don’t mind w’hat he 
says or does.” — And he went on, singing: 

“Call him Peter, 

Or name him Paul 

— only I am afraid he will do us some harm. 
Let us drink!” 

He again emptied his glass to the last drop, 
assumed a comfortable air, leaned back in his 
seat, — when the door was opened and ad- 
mitted into the room the green cap, the flat 
nose and the pointed beard of the amanuensis, 
liimself. 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


103 


Rzepa, whose hat lay on the floor, col- 
lected himself as best he could, arose and 
stammered : 

“Greetings. — God — ’’ 

“Is the judge here?” inquired the clerk. 

“He is,” answered three voices. 

Zolzikiewicz walked up to the table, and 
a moment afterward the inn-keeper stepped 
into the room with a glass of genuine Jamaica, 
which was placed before the new guest. The 
clerk smelled at it, frowned, and took his seat. 
For a brief space of time none opened his 
mouth to speak, but at length Gamula began: 

“Pan Zolzikiewicz — ” 

“What is it?” 

“Are those news of the forest really true?” 

“They are true. But each voter in the 
township is required to sign the agreement.” 

“I won’t sign,” exclaimed Rzepa, who, after 
the fashion of all other peasants, was afraid of 


104 


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affixing his signature to any document, or 
even of touching a pen. 

‘‘You shan’t be troubled to sign, — at least, 
if you fail to show up, your share will be dis- 
tributed among those who do sign. You may 
do exactly as you choose.” 

Rzepa scratched his head and was doubtful. 
The amanuensis paid no attention to him, but, 
turning to the judge and the assessor, ad- 
dressed them in an official tone: 

“The forest-affair is now settled for good. 
But in order to preclude all possibilities of dis- 
agreement among the shareholders, every one 
is required to hedge in his own piece.” 

“That will cost more than the value of the 
whole forest,” observed Rzepa. 

The clerk paid no heed to his utterance, but 
continued, as before: 

“To cover the expense of setting up hedges, 
the government has appropriated a certain 


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105 


sum of money. Each man will have his actual 
outlay refunded — each shareholder will receive 
fifty rubles.” 

Rzepa’s eyes glowed with avidity — and 
strong drink. 

‘Tn that case I am willing to sign,” said he. 
^‘Where’s the money?” 

hold the money in trust,” replied Zolzi- 
kiewicz. ‘‘And the document is here.” 

He produced from one of his pockets a 
sheet of paper, unfolded it and read certain 
paragraphs of the kind which no peasant com- 
prehends, and yet every one is delighted to 
hear. If Rzepa had been quite sober he 
would not have failed to notice that the as- 
sessor winked his eye at the judge in a know- 
ing manner. Then, — the wonder happened: 
The clerk produced from another pocket a 
handful of genuine money, saying: 

“There! — Who is the first man to stgn?” 


106 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


They all signed the document in the order in 
which they sat at the table. When Rzepa 
took up the pen the amanuensis pushed the 
document away, saying in a tone of indiffer- 
ence: 

'‘Probably you would rather be excused. 
Here everything is done voluntarily.” 

“Why should I not be willing?” 

The clerk turned toward the door, exclaim- 
ing: 

“Schmul!” 

Schmul, the inn-keeper, appeared in the 
door. 

“Can I be of any service to the gentlemen?” 

“You shall witness that everything here is 
done voluntarily.” 

Upon this, Zolzikiewicz turned once more 
to Rzepa. 

“Probably you would rather not?” 

■ But Rzepa had already affixed to the paper 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


lor 

not only his signature but a blot that was al- 
most as large as Schmul, himself, — whereupon 
he received fifty good rubles of the clerk's 
hand, thrust them into his breast-pocket, and 
cried: 

^'Let's have another bottle of arrack!" 

Schmul brought in a bottle, and they re- 
sumed drinking. Before very long Rzepa 
leaned forward with his arms upon his knees, 
and became drowsy. He tottered for a while 
in his seat, fell from the chair and landed on 
the floor, murmuring before himself: “God 
have mercy on me, a sinner." Soon he slept 
heavily. There was no prospect that his 
wife would come and bring him home, 
for she knew well enough that when Rzepa 
was drunk the possibility of a blow was 
not far away. Rzepa did not care to be dis- 
turbed. 

— On the following day he was humble 


108 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


enough, asked her pardon and kissed her 
hands. When sober, it never entered his head 
to cause her any harm, not even to utter an 
angry word; but when his head was obfus- 
cated, the woman must bear with a great deal 
of this kind. He had spent the whole night at 
the inn and woke at sunrise. Then he sat up, 
mustered his surroundings, recognized the 
room, looked around, in some degree expect- 
ing the familiar things tO' replace the strange 
premises, but without result. 

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, 
and of the Holy Ghost 

He stares about him; the sun rises and 
peeps through the windows in a ruddy glare. 
And there stands Schmul, a thalet enveloping 
him from head to foot and the teMim covering 
his head and thrown over his left arm. He 
totters forward and backward, praying 
aloud. 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


109 


‘‘Schmul! — you fellow with your dog's 
faith — " cries Rzepa. 

But Schmul totters on, and continues to 
pray. Rzepa now begins to rummage his 
pockets, in the manner of all peasants who 
have spent a night on the floor of the inn. He 
feels money in his breast-pocket. 

“Jesus, Maria! What does this mean?" 

In the meantime Schmul had ceased to 
pray, removing his prayer-toga and the pray- 
er-bands. He vanished and returned present- 
ly with a bag knitted of wool. The men now 
deposited the money therein, Schmul leading 
the affair in a measured and solemn manner. 

“Schmul?" 

“What can I do for you?" 

“How did I get that money?" 

“Why, you are not a fool, are you? — You 
came here last night, in company with the 
judge. You contracted with him to be en- 


110 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


listed in the army in place of his son. The 
agreement was signed and the money paid 
into your hands.” 

The peasant turned as pale and white as the 
wall. Upon this he threw his hat upon the 
floor, fell down himself and set up a howl that 
made the very window panes rattle in their 
fastenings. 

'‘So you are a full-fledged soldier now,” 
drawled the inn-keeper. 

Half-an-hour later Rzepa approached the 
door of his hut. The Rzepowa, who was just 
preparing for breakfast, heard the grating of 
the gate and ran from the chimney forward to 
meet him. 

"You drunkard — !” began she. 

^ But a glance at his countenance made her 
uneasy. She hardly recognized his features. 

"What has happened?” 

Rzepa walked into the hut, and for some 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


in 


time he could not find utterance. He threw 
himself upon a bench, looked fixedly at the 
floor, but said nothing. Now she began to 
question him, and little by little she learned 
what had happened. 

^They have sold me and betrayed me,” at 
last concluded he, amidst sobbing and wailing. 
His wife, too, burst into a fit of weeping; the 
baby in the cradle awoke with a cry, and even 
Robert, the dog, set up such a dismal howl 
outside the door that all the women in the 
neighborhood ran to their respective doors, 
ladles in hand, asking one another: 

‘‘What can have happened at Rzepa’s?” 

“He must have been beating her, don’t you 
think?” 

In the meantime the Rzepowa wept louder 
than her husband did, for, in fact, the poor 
woman loved him better than anything, or 
any one else in the world. 


112 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE MUNICIPAL GOVERNMENT OF BLOCK- 
HEAD AND ITS CHIEF LEADERS. 

The administrative body of the Blockhead 
township went into session on the following 
day. All the assessors were present, with the 
exception of certain gentlemen, or Sdachta, 
who had taken hand in the government of cer- 
tain public matters. These men favored the 
English methods in politics, most likely on 
account of the solidarity implied therein ; — id 
est, they preferred non-intervention, the prin- 
ciple lauded to such great extent by John 
Bright, the famous statesman. This did not, 
however, preclude the direct influence of the 
so-called '‘higher intelligence” upon public 
affairs. Things were arranged, namely, in 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


113 


such a way that when any one belonging to 
the “higher intelligence’’ had conceived a plan 
to be carried out, Pan Zolzikiewicz would be 
invited to his house on the evening previous 
to the regular meeting of the council. He 
would be conducted into the august presence 
of the cabinet of “higher intelligence,” where 
the noble beverage of whisky would be passed 
around; where cigars were offered and accept- 
ed, and where the subject was freely discussed. 
In some cases Pan Zolzikiewicz, himself, 
would be invited to join the conversation: 
“Well, — draw up your chair, and take a seat 
among us, Panie Zolzikiewicz.” And the same 
gentleman would be invited to sit at the host’s 
table, where he ate and drank in company 
with the real rulers of the township. 

On the day following such an event he us- 
ually said to the judge: 

“Yesterday I was invited to Pan ’s 

8 


114 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


house. There is a daughter, and of course I 
comprehend — I comprehend quite well — !” 

At the table, Pan Zolzikiewicz concentrated 
his attention upon a display of fine manners 
and endeavored to do justice to the variety 
of mysterious dishes with which he was con- 
fronted. He paid much attention to the man- 
ner in which the company disposed of the vi- 
ands, while, as a man of good breeding, he 
never affected to be surprised at the high de- 
gree of consideration everybody showed him. 
Even flatterings were received by him with 
the most perfect composure. The amanuensis 
behaved like a man of tact, who felt at home 
everywhere, so he never lost courage, but 
even plunged into conversation without 
special provocation on the part of anybody. 
.On such occasions he was heard to mention, 
in a loud tone, ‘^our able commissioner” or 
‘^our excellent chief,” — men with whom he 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


had possibly played an occasional game of 
cards, winning to the extent of a few kopeks. 
In short, he tried his best to demonstrate that 
he, himself, was quite intimate with the most 
important persons in the district of Jackfield. 
He could not fail to notice, however, that 
most of the ladies and gentlemen gazed per- 
sistently at their plates while he displayed his 
conversational talent, but considered this one 
of the features of good breeding. And once 
in a while he wondered considerably at the 
master of the house, who, without waiting for 
a word on his part, slapped him on the shoul- 
der in a confidential manner, saying: 

“Well, good night to you, Panie Zolzikie- 
wicz!’* 

Still, in the clerk’s estimation, such were the 
habits among people of high social standing. 

And then, on bidding good night to the 
company’s host, who pressed his hand confi- 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


dentially, Zolzikiewicz always felt something’ 
rustle in his hand. So he curved his fingers, 
scratched the palm of the intelligent gentle- 
man’s hand, whereby the rustling ceased, — re- 
turned the pressure, and expressed himself as 
follows: ^‘Ah, my dear sir, this would not be 
necessary in our case. As regards the matter 
you mentioned, you may rest quietly; it will 
be arranged in due time.” 

In consequence of this energetic adminis- 
tration and of the remarkable talents with 
which Pan Zolzikiewicz was endowed, the af- 
fairs of the township would have settled them- 
selves quite smoothly, unless it were not so 
that the clerk sometimes raised his voice and 
explained before the court what points of law 
must be regarded in such and such cases. Un- 
fortunately, all cases that had not been opened 
with the rustling of bank notes, were left to 
the decision of the court. When they came 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


iir 

up for discussion, the amanuensis would re- 
main in his seat, quite immovable; during the 
whole procedure he never opened his mouth 
to speak, to the complete stupefaction and be- 
wilderment of the assessors, who did not know 
what way to turn. 

Of the representatives of higher intelli- 
gence, Herr Floss, the administrator of an 
estate named Standstill, would at first, after 
having acquired the dignity of an assessor, put 
in appearance at the council meetings, and he 
also expressed the opinion that his party 
would benefit matters by following his exam- 
ple, but the idea w^as ridiculed. His colleagues 
held that Herr Floss must be one of ''the red 
ones’" — which was, of course, quite likely, in 
view of his German name. The peasants, too, 
thought that no Pan^ could afford to occupy 


* Sir, one of the better class. — Transl. 


118 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


a seat on the same bench where they, them- 
selves, sat, — an opinion that illustrated w^ell 
enough their democratic ideas respecting their 
own peculiar social position, and which they 
proved by referring to the fact that no other 
Pan would mingle in their company. In gen- 
eral, Herr Floss had this one thing against 
him: he was no genuine Pan , — and besides. 
Pan Zolzikiewicz did not like him. Herr 
Floss certainly had not cultivated the friend- 
ship of the amanuensis by introducing any- 
thing of a rustling character into their mutual 
relations, and even permitted himself, by vir- 
tue of his assessor’s dignity, to order Zolzikie- 
wicz off the floor during a session of the coun- 
cil. So the administrator became generally 
disfavored, and one day even his neighbor on 
the council bench gave vent to the remark 
that the good Herr Floss had really no right 
to be the incumbent of the office he held, as 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


119 


his colleagues were far above the good Herr 
Floss, who, as a mere administrator of other 
people’s property, could not be counted as be- 
ing of more account than artisans! In those 
very days Herr Floss had become the owner 
of a small estate, however, so he might well 
shrug his shoulders. Yet he attended the 
council sessions no more, but let the peasants 
rule themselves under the able guidance of the 
honorable amanuensis. The ‘^szlachta” vowed 
that he was ''played out,” and the leaders 
quoted with much pride a proverb illustrating 
the advantage of non-intervention in public 
aflairs, — officially, and expressive of the senti- 
ment that peasants are far better off in the 
absence of a higher education. 

Thus, under no restriction, such as might 
have been caused by the intervention of high- 
er intelligence, the affairs of the township 
were settled only through blockheadish advice 


120 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


and mediation, — exactly as Paris, owing to 
the same principle, is governed by Parisian 
arbitration. A practical element: the so- 
called ‘'sound reason of the common man,’' 
may thus be seen to prevail to a far greater ex- 
tent for public matters, than the foreign prin- 
ciple of that higher intelligence. It is un- 
necessary, of course, to prove that the rural 
population enters upon its earthly career with 
a fair share of “sound reason.” This was 
abundantly demonstrated during the meeting 
of the council of which we are about to speak. 

There was read before the council a docu- 
ment asking whether the township considered 
itself under obligation to cause repairs to be 
made on the road between Blockhead and 
Jackfield, so far as this road touched upon 
Blockhead property. This matter was not 
viewed in a favorable light by the wise fathers 
assembled, and one of the assessors rose to say 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


121 


that according to his positive belief the road 
would need no repair whatever, as people 
might go across the meadow belonging to 
Pan Skorabiewsky’s farm, without setting 
foot on the public road. Now, if Pan Skora- 
biewsky had been present he might probably 
have raised one or two objections, for the ben- 
efit of the public. He was conspicuous, how- 
ever, by his absence, owing, of course, to the 
principle of non-intervention. So the objec- 
tions raised by that honorable member would 
have prevailed against anything else, unless 
Pan Zolzikiewicz had not taken dinner, on 
the day before, with the proprietor of the 
meadow in question. There, he had related to 
Lady Jadwiga the scene of two Spanish gen- 
erals being choked in Madrid, which scene was 
described in the Breslauer edition of “Isabella 
of Spain.’^ When dinner was over he had been 
honored with the obligate handshake, attend- 


122 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


ed by a certain rustling of bank bills, and con- 
sequently, instead of noting the interpellation, 
the clerk, at the council meeting, laid down 
his pen, which signified that he desired to take 
the floor. 

‘Tan Zolzikiewicz desires to furnish some 
information,’^ cried several members. 

“I merely wish to state,” remarked the 
amanuensis, “that” — phlegmatically — “all of 
of you are idiots.” 

The effect of a true parliamentar}^ address 
is never lost. Even when condensed to the 
extent of these few words, that of Pan Zolzi- 
kiewicz was at once understood to be directed 
not only against the matter discussed, but 
against the municipal politics of Blockhead in 
general. The members at once eyed one an- 
other timidly, commenced rubbing their or- 
gans of thought, and behaved as men who did 
their best to penetrate into the subject that 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


123 


required their attention. After a long silence 
one of the citizens' representatives raised his 
voice, asking: 

‘'Because — ^because you are idiots," re- 
turned Zolzikiewicz. 

“But is it not true ?" began a voice. 

“A meadow must always remain a 
meadow," mused another. 

“But in spring one cannot pass over a 
meadow," objected a third voice. 

Consequently the proposition respecting 
the use of Pan Skorabiewsky's meadow for a 
provisional road was rejected: Intelligence 
prevailed. So the council proceeded at once 
to the allotment of the cost of reparation, bas- 
ing its calculations upon the proposed plans 
and specifications. The sense of justice was 
so deeply rooted in the mind of the Blockhead 
council members, that no one succeeded in 


124 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


evading his allotment, so far as the affair 
might concern him personally, with the ex- 
ception of Judge Burak, and Gamula, the as- 
sessor, who promised, in return, to see that 
everything was arranged as speedily and 
promptly as circumstances permitted. Yet 
these disinterested efforts on the part of the 
two good men were, like any other virtue that 
excels our everyday notice, misconstrued by 
the other members to such an extent that 
more than one voice was raised in clamorous 
protest. 

‘'Why should you be excused from paying 
your shares?” 

“Why should we pay out our dear money, 
since the other allotments cover the expense 
abundantly?” returned Gamula. 

This argument settled the matter so con- 
clusively that neither the township of Block- 
head nor that of any other place on earth 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


125 


would likely have been able to pursue the 
question further than this point. The voice 
advancing the protest became silent, and after 
a considerable pause somebody said: 

‘That is true enough.” 

The matter having thus reached its climax 
and final settlement, no doubt the council 
would have proceeded to other business, had 
not the sudden and unexpected appearance in 
the council-room of two pigs effected a most 
undesirable disturbance. Said pigs came run- 
ning into the room and galloped about the 
chairs and desks in a most audacious and reck- 
less manner, grunting loudly and rushing in 
between the legs of the wise fathers without 
apparent provocation. The proceedings were 
of course interrupted, the august counsellors 
pitched into the flank of the enemy, and each 
man displayed with good effect the linguistic 
.and military tactics employed on such occa- 


126 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


sions, acting in complete unanimity. One of 
the pigs — one that could boast of cleanliness 
in manners and appearance no more that other 
ordinary pigs — chose for her hiding place the 
space under the clerk’s chair, occasioning 
thereby the ruin of a pair of gray pantaloons, 
which became soiled with mud to such an ex- 
tent that Pan Zolzikiewicz never succeeded in 
restoring their original noble appearance, 
though he afterward made use of genuine 
glycerine soap and his own tooth-brush. 

Thanks to the display of energy and the 
perseverance that never left the representa- 
tives of the Blockhead township, even under 
the most trying circumstances, the intruders 
were at length seized by their hind legs and 
kicked out of the door, in spite of their loud 
protestations. So the council once more pro- 
ceeded to business. 

The next matter was the complaint of a 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


127 

certain farmer against certain doings of Herr 
Floss. It had so happened that Farmer 
Sroda’s cattle, hidden by the gloom of night, 
had invaded the pastures belonging to the 
Floss estate, and consequently, on the follow- 
ing morning, must bid farewell to this valley 
of tears, clover and trouble, exchanging the 
same for another — bovine world. Now Sroda, 
in his sorrow and affliction, appealed to the 
council for assistance and justice in the de- 
plorable matter. And the council decided that 
even if Sroda had willfully permitted his cat- 
tle to remain in the fields of the Floss estate, 
the cattle in question might yet have been 
alive. If they had invaded any of the corn- 
fields, it might have been different; they 
might have been able to stand their share of 
oats or of wheat, without falling victims to the 
dire affection of tympanitis that had been 
caused by the rich clover in the field where 


128 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


their carcasses were found. In consequence 
of these strictly logical and carefully consid- 
ered premises the court arrived at the conclu- 
sion that Sroda, himself, had not caused the 
death of the animals. As the cause of death 
was the clover, and as the clover belonged to 
Herr Floss, the latter named gentleman must 
be guilty in having caused the death of the 
cattle, and responsible to Sroda for the value 
of the stock in question. There was imposed 
upon Herr Floss a fine of five silver rubles, 
as a warning against committing like misde- 
meanor in the future, and if the payment of 
this sum was refused, it should be collected 
from Itzig Zweinas, in charge of the Floss 
creamery. 

In addition, certain civil cases were yet de- 
cided, partly with, partly without, the inter- 
vention of the amanuensis. Throughout these 
proceedings the members manifested their 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


129 


ability and their tendency to weigh every mat- 
ter upon the scales of righteousness, as con- 
ceived by the sound reason of the Blockhead 
township. Thanks to the English principle of 
non-intervention, followed by those distin- 
guished by a higher intelligence, the unison 
and harmony of the council elements shone 
forth in their splendor and beauty, scarcely 
ever disturbed by personal remarks and hard- 
ly troubled by such missiles as pestilence, can- 
cer, boils of various descriptions, or breaks of 
a similar nature. Thanks to the glorious prin- 
ciple of non-intervention, any and all cases 
were dismissed with a proportionately quite 
large fine imposed upon the one part or the 
other for the purpose of ‘^covering divers ex- 
penses for clerical work.” Apart from secur- 
ing for the judge and the clerk certain extra- 
ordinary items of compensation, these fines 

would always tend to heal the lawsuit-sickness 
9 — 


130 THE NEW SOLDIER. 

« 

among the inhabitants of the township, as well 
as to impart to the Blockhead community a 
high degree of moral feeling, — a degree of 
which the great philosophers of the eighteenth 
century would never have dreamed. It is 
worth mentioning, too, — though we refrain 
from approving or denouncing this — that Pan 
Zolzikiewicz never quoted in his record more 
than one-half of the actual sums of the fines 
imposed; the remaining half always passed 
into the hands of the clerk, the judge and 
Gamula, the assessor, who shared the respon- 
sibility of appropriating this money for cer- 
tain purposes known only to themselves. 

At length the council arrived at certain 
criminal cases, whereat the jailer was asked 
to bring up the prisoners who were destined 
to face the stern gaze of the judge. It may be 
unnecessary to state that the judicial district 
of Blockhead was provided with a jail system 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


131 


that conformed to the very best and latest 
modern standards. Not even the malicious 
persons who went abroad slandering this sys- 
tem can altogether gainsay this. Even to-day 
any one may prove to his own satisfaction that 
the judge’s pigs’ pen is provided with four 
stalls, or cells. Here the prisoners were ac- 
commodated, sharing the quarters with the 
kind of animals of which our Natural His- 
tory for Young Readers states: ‘'Hogs, ani- 
mals that carry this name, on account of their 
lack of cleanliness, for very good reasons,” 
etc. So the prisoners were kept in apartments, 
or rather cells, in the kind of company that 
was best calculated to render them painfully 
conscious of their base deeds, and inspire 
them with good purposes for their future con- 
duct. 

The jailer at once repaired to the cell prison, 
and produced from the cells — not two, but 


132 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


Kterally a couple of malefactors, whom he 
conducted into the presence of the honorable 
court, and from the fact of their being a cou- 
ple one may conclude what deeply psychologi- 
cal, astonishingly complicated and delicate 
problems the court was required to solve. In- 
deed, the case presented some arch-delicate 
features: 

A certain Romeo, commonly named Wach 
Rechino, and a certain Juliet, described Baska 
Zabia, were fellow-servants on a farm. Why 
should the fact be concealed? — they loved 
each other, apd one could not live without the 
other, exactly after the fashion of hero and 
heroine in the tragedies of Shakespeare, but 
for a slight variation. The fact is that a cer- 
tain measure of jealousy crept into the rela- 
tions of Romeo and Juliet, when the latter ob- 
served that the former was one day engaged in 
a quite animated conversation with Jaga, the 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


133 


housemaid. Since that day unfortunate Juliet 
watched for an opportunity, and one day when 
Romeo had returned from the field at an 
earlier hour than expected by her, asking 
quite impatiently for his supper, the eruption 
came. It was attended by sundry exchanges 
of blows, the cooking ladle being used as a 
weapon among others. Traces of this tourna- 
ment had not yet disappeared from Juliet's 
ideal face, where blue marks were conspicuous. 
Likewise, the manly forehead of Romeo had 
been adorned with a fearful scar. The ques- 
tion now before the court was to decide who 
was right; in other words, who, for love be- 
trayed, or damage done, might be considered 
as being under obligation to pay to the op- 
ponent the sum of five Polish gulden, or, as 
the law put it, seventy-five silver kopeks. The 
sound system of the court had never been 
touched by the foul ideas of the West; it 


134 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


shuddered at the mere hint of woman’s eman- 
cipation, which will never conform to the idyl 
of slavery. The court decided in favor of 
Romeo, who was permitted to speak first. — 
He placed his hand on the forehead and began 
thus : 

“Most honorable court! For a long time 
this wretch never would give me a minute’s 
peace. I returned home, as was my right, 
asking for my supper, and she at once at- 
tacks me: ‘You beast, you, master is yet in 
the fields, and here you return home already. 
You want to sit behind the stove, winking at 
me?’ — Now, I never winked at her, but since 
the day when I helped Jaga drawing her buck- 
et out of the well, she always walked on me. 
She threw the bowl on the table, so that 
the soup squirted all over, and would not al- 
low me a minute’s peace for eating. She gave 
me such names as ‘the son of a heathen,’ a 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


135 


turncoat, — she even called me a suffragist 
When she said that word I fetcfced her a blow, 
in anger, and she knocked me over the head 
with her soup ladle 

The ideal Juliet could keep her peace no 
longer, but clenched her hand beneath 
Romeo’s nose and cried in a loud voice: 

^‘You are lying! It’s all a lie! You — you 
— you dog!” 

Whereupon her heart, in its fullness, be- 
came too oppressed for the keeping back of 
her tears. Turning to the court, she said: 

“Most estimable court! Oh, I am an un- 
happy girl, father- and motherless. Oh, God 
help me! — I did see him with Jaga, — may 
blindness fall upon their eyes! — You infamous 
thing, — how often did you say that you loved 
me well enough for eating me up. May you 
be broken on the wheel, you — ! May his 
tongue never sit still in his mouth! — Never 


136 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


did I strike him with the ladle, only with the 
door-bolt. Why, the sun is yet high in the 
sky, and yet he comes home and asks for his 
grub. I say to him, kindly and in a civil way: 
Wou infamous rascal, master is yet afield, and 
here you return already!’ But a suffragist I 
never called him, so help me God. May all 
the 1” 

Here the judge called the prisoner to order, 
repeating a few times: 

‘Will you be quiet, you witch!” 

A short pause ensued, during which the 
court commenced thinking of the decision to 
which it was likely to arrive, — and what a sub- 
tle conception of the situation! It awarded 
the five Polish gulden to none of the opposing 
parties, but — to uphold the judicial dignity 
and to warn all similarly minded couples with- 
in the domain of Blockhead — sentenced both 
to remain in prison for twenty-four hours and 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


137 


to pay the fine of each one silver ruble into 
the court’s treasury. As a matter of course, 
Zolzikiewicz entered in his record-book only 
fifty kopeks for each party. 

So the meeting was adjourned. Pan Zolzi- 
kiewicz pulled up his sand-colored inexpressi- 
bles and pulled down his violet waistcoat. The 
assessors, preparing for taking leave, reached 
after their caps and their whips, — when the 
door that had been kept closed after the inva- 
sion of the pigs, was cautiously opened, dis- 
closing Rzepa’s dark face — now dark as night 
herself, — and behind him his wife, accompan- 
ied by Robert. Rzepa’s wife was pale as 
death; in her beautiful, fine features one might 
read both anger and humiliation. Tears were 
rolling from the dark eyes down over her 
cheeks. 

Rzepa had entered the room defiantly, 
with lifted head, yet in the presence of all 


138 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


the municipal authorities, he lost courage and 
said, almost in a whisper: 

'The Lord be praised.” 

“In eternity,” returned the assessors in 
chorus. 

“And what do you want here?” inquired the 
judge, in a stern manner, though he could not 
avoid a feeling of confusion. But he at once 
mastered his weakness, and continued: “What 
may your errand be? Have you been fight- 
ing, or what else?” 

Contrary to his expectations, the amanu- 
ensis dropped a remark: 

“Let them speak for themselves.” 

“Most honorable court,” began Rzepa. 
“Most worship ” 

“Be quiet,” interrupted his wife. “Be quiet, 
and let me speak. Don’t say a word.” 

Whereupon she wiped her nose and eyes in 
her apron and told the whole story of the woe 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


139 


that had befallen them. — Poor dear, what did 
she do? She accused the judge and the clerk 
before — before these persons themselves! — 
— ‘They pressed him for signing his name 
to the document; they gave him promise of a 
share in the forest, if he would sign. They 
gave him fifty rubles, — and he was drunk and 
knew it not, — did not realize that he sold his 
rights as a free man, and sealed the fate of me 
and of the child! — Most honorable court, he 
was as drunk as a beast,’Vasserted she, smoth- 
ering a great sob. — “A drunken man does not 
realize what he does; even the courts recog- 
nize this plea, and overlook certain things, 
when those who are accused did not act in a 
sober state. For God’s sake, — no sober man 
would sell himself and his family for fifty ru- 
bles. — Oh, do have pity, do feel some sympa- 
thy with me — ^with the innocent child of ours! 
Where can I go, and what can I do to per- 


140 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


suade you! What would become of me, if I 
were to remain here alone, — without him, — 

without my poor, dear husband? Oh, if 

you would only hear me, — God would reward 
you with all the joys of life, as he rewards all 
acts of kindness done to those poor and lone- 
ly!” 

Tears interrupted further speaking on her 
part. Rzepa, too, burst into a fit of crying, 
and wiped his nose all the while. The assess- 
ors had become somewhat restless; they 
moved to and fro in their seats, glanced to- 
ward the judge, and from him to the clerk, 
and were irresolute. By this time the 
Rzepowa had collected herself sufficiently to 
continue: 

^‘The poor man walks about like one who 
has taken poison. T’ll knock you dead,' says 
h^, 'and Til kill the child. The house I can. 
set afire, but to the army will I never go — no. 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


141 


never.’ — And what is my fault? What is the 
poor child’s fault? — He cannot go to work, 
and amounts to nothing with an axe or a 
sickle in his hand, but sits in a corner, sighing 
and groaning. — Now I determined to wait for 
the day when the court would be in session, — 
for you have God in your hearts; you will not 
permit such injustice. — ^Jesus of Nazareth, the 
holy Virgin of Czenstochaw, be our advo- 
cates!” 

For some time only the sobbing cf the 
Rzepowa was audible in the courtroom; at 
length one of the old assessors murmured: 

‘'Really — to make a man drunk and then 
make him sell himself, — why, that is disgust- 
mg. 

“Disgusting indeed!” added others. 

“God and the holy Virgin bless you,” cried 
the Rzepowa, kneeling at the doorstep. 

The judge looked somewhat ashamed; 


142 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


Gamula, the assessor, appeared tO' be quite un- 
comfortable; both glanced at the amanuen- 
sis. The latter remained silent, until the 
Rzepowa had ceased speaking, when he ad- 
dressed the murmuring assessors briefly thus: 

“ Y ou — are — idiots !” 

The room became very quiet. Then the 
amanuensis continued: 

“The law says plainly enough that whoever 
affixes his name to a contract shall have his 
case brought before a naval court. But do 
you know, you idiots, — do you comprehend 
the meaning of the term naval court? You 
don’t, you don’t know it, and you are too 
foolish to understand. — ^Why, a naval court 
is—” 

He interrupted himself long enough to pro- 
duce a handkerchief, whereupon, wiping his 
nose with great care, he continued his oration 
in a measured, official manner: 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


143 


‘Whichever rascal may desire to know what 
a naval court is may poke his nose into it 
and see if he won’t feel it as far as his seventh 
rib. If a man volunteers to serve in the army 
God forbid that you should say a word against 
it. — The agreement is signed, and, by Jove, 
the signing has been witnessed by a man of 
good repute. The law has been complied 
with. If you don’t take my word for it, why, 
go and examine into the proce'dure — look for 
yourselves. 

“And if there has been some drinking! 
What about it? — As though you simpletons 
did not drink over anything and everything! 
As though you did not always drink?” 

If justice herself had stepped forward from 
behind the stove, sword in one hand and scales 
in the other, presenting herself in the presence 
of the assessors, consternation would not have 
seized them more forcibly than when 


144 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


heard the terms, ‘'naval court, "complied 
with,” and "procedure.” Silence prevailed 
once more, and continued until Gamula aston- 
ished the occupants of the room by advancing, 
in a subdued tone, the following audacious, 
opinion: 

"True enough, or likely to be. One may 
sell a horse and spend the money in drinking; 
others may dispose of a cow, a hog, and drink 
out their gain. We have heard of such things 
before.” 

"We, too, drank in accordance with old us- 
age,” remarked the judge. 

Now the assessors faced Rzepa with more 
courage than before. 

— "What do you expect us to do? — Why, 
if you have brewed the beer, go and drink it.” 

— "Are you not old enough to act for your- 
self? Don’t you realize what you are do- 
ing?” 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


145 


— ‘Why, nobody wants to tear off your 
head!’^ 

— “When you are called into service, go 
and hire some help. Go and find someone 
who can manage your affairs while you are 
gone.’' 

The assembly was suddenly seized with 
more than ordinary cheerfulness, when the 
amanuensis once more opened his mouth to 
speak, and a solemn hush spread over the 
chamber. 

“I don’t understand,” said Zolzikiewicz, 
^Vho authorizes you to meddle with this af- 
fair. I fail to comprehend how you really dare 
say a word about it. Regarding Rzepa’s 
threats of killing his wife and child and set- 
ting his house afire, — there you have a right 
to step in. Such things should not be al- 
lowed to pass without notice. As we have 

now found Rzepa guilty of a grave misde- 

10 


146 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


meaner, these persons should not be permitted 
to leave the courtroom without a sentence of 
some kind.’’ 

‘Tt is untrue, it is untrue,” cried the Rze- 
powa in agony. never complained of any- 
thing; he never wronged me, he never did 
me the least harm. — Oh, by the dear wounds 
of the living Christ, — has the Day of Doom 
already arrived!” 

But the court took council, and the imme- 
diate result hereof was that the Rzepa’s, hus- 
band and wife, did not only fail in obtaining 
what they sought, but that the judge saw fit, in 
order to insure the safety of the Rzepowa and 
her child, to condemn Rzepa to a two days’ 
sojourn in the pigs’ pen. And besides, in or- 
der to dispel all ideas, alike sinful, from our 
mind, the court imposed upon him a fine of 
two rubles fifty kopeks, to be paid into the 
treasury of the court, for expense incurred. 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


14r 

Rzepa, however, received this mild sentence 
with a display of anger and wroth. He cried 
that he would never set foot in the pigs’ pen. 
But in regard to the fine, he chose the course 
of throwing down, not two, but fifty rubles 
before the judge, declaring that whoever 
wanted the money might take it, and wel- 
come. 

And then a terrible uproar began. The jail- 
er reached for Rzepa, who was to be brought 
to his cell at once, but the woodcutter planted 
his fist in the jailer’s one eye. Now the court’s 
servant caught hold of Rzepa’s hair; the Rze- 
powa uttered a piercing shriek, and continued 
to scream until one of the assessors seized her 
by the shoulder and thrust her out of the door, 
following up this move with a blow in the 
chest. The other assessors, in the meantime, 
lent their assistance to the jailer in drawing 
Rzepa by his hair out into the pigs’ pen. 


148 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


Amidst this turmoil the clerk entered upon 
the proper account in his record-book the fol- 
lowing item: 

“Received from Wawrzye Rzepa, 

to apply to costs in his case Rubles 

I , 25” 

The Rzepowa, almost beside herself, re- 
turned to her dismal hut, stumbling over 
every stone on the road, wringing her hands, 
and repeating in sorrow and desperation her 
“Oh, oh, oh!" 


The judge, accompanied by Gamula, his 
friend and assistant, walked slowly toward the 
public-house. His kind heart manifested its 
sympathy with those poor and afflicted, as he 
uttered these words: 

“I feel quite sorry for that woman. Sup- 
pose I send her half a peck of shelled peas, — 
eh?" 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


149 


CHAPTER VL 

IMOGENA. 

It is hoped that the reader may by this time 
have appreciated the ingenious plans of our 
distinguished and sympathetical hero. Pan 
Zolzikiewicz had proved his ability to con- 
quer Rzepa and the woman, and to frustrate 
all their attempts of righting themselves. It 
would have been of little consequence to place 
the man’s name on the proscription lists. But 
making him drunk and arranging matters in 
such a way that he was eager, or even anxious, 
to sign a document, receiving in consideration 
thereof a certain sum of money, — this gave 
the whole matter a different aspect. In play- 
ing this intrigue, Zolzikiewicz proved beyond 
the slightest doubt that he was able, under 


150 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


the proper circumstances, to play an import- 
ant role. — The judge, who had been preparing 
for some time to pay the sum of eight hundred 
rubles required for the release of his son from 
military service, consented to the clerk’s plan 
all the more readily, as Zolzikiewicz asked for 
only twenty-five rubles to lend his assistance 
to the realization of Burak’s ardent wish, — 
that of keeping his boy at home. And the 
clerk wanted this sum of money, not for mer- 
cenary reasons, — nor was it for such reasons 
that he shared the court spoils with Burak. 
The fact is that Pan Zolzikiewicz owed a good 
many small amounts to Suel, the Jackfield 
tailor, who provided the surrounding country 
with “genuine Paris wearing apparel.” And 
while peeping into the clerk’s private affairs 
we* might as well now as any other time dis- 
close the reason why Pan Zolzikiewicz dressed 
with such careful observance of the style in 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


151 ' 


vogue: This was a direct result, in one re- 
spect, of his strongly developed sense of 
beauty and harmony. But there was another 
momentous motive. Pan Zolzikiewicz was in 
love; yet, let no one for a moment think that 
Rzepowa was the object of his affection. For 
Rzepa’s wife he had, as he himself once put it,, 
''only a certain appetite,’’ and that was all. 
But Pan Zolzikiewicz was capable of higher 
and more complicated feelings. It may cause 
no astonishment to those who fully appreci- 
ate the matchless capabilities and energies of 
our hero to learn that the object of his most 
subtle and select affectionate feelings was 
Lady Jadwiga Skorabiewska, the magnate’s 
daughter. More than once, when the silvery 
moon rose in the sky, the romantic amanuen- 
sis would produce his harmonica, which in- 
strument he played to perfection, seat himself 
on the sod seat in front of his little house, fix 


152 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


his longing eye upon a far-off castle, and 
sing, in a low tone, accompanied by the snort- 
ing tones of the instrument: 

“At sunrise I am longing; 

. My tears are flowing fast; 

And sunset finds me sighing yet; 

— My heart must break at last.” 

Sometimes the voice would be heard until 
far into the stillness of the fair summer night, 
when Pan Zolzikiewicz, in the fullness of ec- 
stasy, would conclude the beautiful outburst 
of his passion in the fitting strain: 

“Tell me, — why should others 
Never stop to see 
That they’re treading into dust 
The rose that bloomed for me?” 

But if, in other respects, the clerk should 
be suspected of sentimentality, we would at 
once deny any such allegation. If subject of 
sentimentality at all, the mind of this great 
man was too practical to yield before it. Only 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


153 


in moments when phantasy conquered reason, 
would he think of Lady Jadwiga as Isabella; 
of himself as Serrano. Realizing that reality 
did not always conform to phantasy, this iron- 
willed man would occasionally collide with 
outward circumstances, as, for example, one 
evening, when passing through the woodshed 
of the castle, he observed some white skirts 
hung over a line in the adjoining barn. Each 
piece was marked with the letters J. S., and a 
crown, which signified that it was the personal 
property of Lady Jadwiga. — And who would 
have summoned up sufficient power to resist 
such a temptation? Zolzikiewicz could not; 
he approached the line and began eagerly to 
kiss the hem of each garment. Malgossia, one 
of the servant girls, who happened to observe 
this delicate performance, was so impressed 
with it, however, that she went right up to 
her mistress, stating that Pan Zolzikiewicz 


154 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


had “wiped his nose in Milady’s white skirts.” 
As her story failed to be credited, however, 
the clerk’s passion escaped detection. 

Yet, can we consider it reasonable that 
Pan Zolzikiewicz loved without hope? Ah, 
do not blame him for having great hopes and 
expectations! — Whenever he went over to 
dine with the magnate and his family, a soft, 
though weak voice, would whisper to him: 
What if to-day Lady Jadwiga should step on 
your foot beneath the table . . . ! 

Ah, suppose she became so impressed with 
the splendor of the glazed boots, — thought 
the young man further, his soul expanding 
with love’s great pride and joy. 

From the reading of Herr Breslauer’s pub- 
lications he had gained faith in the possibility 
. of stepping on one’s foot. But Lady Jadwiga 
never fulfilled his hopes; — on the contrary — 
who will ever prove equal to woman’s ways? 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


155 


— she swept him a glance, exactly as when 
looking at a hedge, or a cat, or a plate, or any- 
thing that may come within the range of 
man’s vision. The poor fellow strained his ef- 
forts to the utmost in attracting her attention, 
but all in vain. More than once he donned a 
neckerchief of unprecedented colors, or a pair 
of pantaloons with fabulous length stripes, 
saying to himself: ‘'Now she must open her 
eyes and look at you!” 

Even Suel, the tailor, whenever bringing a 
fresh pair of trousers, would deliver himself of 
such a remark as this: “Well, in such panta- 
loons one might even present one’s self — if 
you’ll permit me to say it, sir, — one might 
even present one’s self before the daughter of 
a baronet.” 

But all in vain! 

He steps into the dining room; Lady Jad- 
wiga, proud, spotless, a virgin of queenly bear- 


156 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


ing, steps into the dining room; there is a 
most decidedly aristocratic rustle of her dress; 
she takes her seat at the table, takes the spoon 
with her delicate fingers, and bestows upon 
the amanuensis merely a passing, a most tran- 
sitory glance. 

'‘Does she not at all see what expense this 
all is to me?’’ said Zolzikiewicz to himself, as 
the girl drove him toward the very verge of 
desperation. 

Yet he never loses faith and hope. “When 
I become a deputy auditor — ” ponders he; 
“why, such an official can always find a pre- 
tense for making calls at the Baron’s house. 
— And from there tO' an auditor’s office is 
merely a cat’s jump! Then one might keep a 
hritschka^ of the latest pattern, a couple of 
horses; — and then she might press one’s hand 
under the table!” 


Light vehicle. — Transl. 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


157 


And Pan Zolzikiewicz would indulge in a 
glorious day-dream of eventual further conse- 
quences of such pressings of hands or feet; 
as they are secrets of the heart these thoughts 
should, however, not be revealed. The rich 
mental capacity of Pan Zolzikiewicz was evi- 
dent, however, from the ease and equanimity 
that he displayed in keeping apart his ideal 
feelings for Lady Jadwiga, which sentiment 
corresponded to perfection with the young 
man’s aristocratic bearing and tendencies, 
from the so-called ‘^appetite” that marked his 
relations to Rzepa’s fair wife. No one could 
deny that the Rzepowa was a very pretty 
woman, and yet the Don Juan of the Block- 
head community would not have considered 
her worthy of such an expense of time and at- 
tention, unless the woman’s remarkable, nay, 
even criminal obstinacy, had caused him so 
much irritation. The resistance of a common 


158 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


woman to — to whom? — why to him, appeared^ 
in the clerk’s mind, a crime so dastardly and 
unheard of, that not only was he determined 
to conquer her, in spite of herself, but to im- 
part to her a lesson that she would not easily 
forget. The affair in which Robert played so 
conspicuous a part, strengthened this deter- 
mination. Knowing that his victim would 
show fight, he devised the plan of Rzepa’s vol- 
untary agreement with the judge, which would 
result in reducing the chances of the woman 
and her child to a mere nothing. 


The Rzepowa, however, after witnessing 
the action of the council, had not given up her 
case as entirely lost. The next day was a Sun- 
day, so she determined to attend mass in 
Doorchain, and, at the same time, to solicit 
the advice of his Reverence, the priest. — 
There were two priests in Doorchain; the one, 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


159 


Canon Ulanowsky, had attained a very old age 
and reached the stage of senile debility that his 
eyes seemed ready to drop out of their sock- 
ets. His head kept rocking constantly to and 
fro. The Rzepowa determined not to appeal 
her case to him, but to seek advice from 
Czyzyk, his vicar. The latter was a most holy, 
quiet and wise man, who seemed always ready 
to minister advice and solace to those who 
needed such. 

She determined to be ready at an early 
hour, so as to obtain audience with the vicar 
before mass; but it was necessary, on the other 
hand, that certain work about the house was 
done without delay, so this she must do, as her 
husband was detained in the pigs’ pen. Be- 
fore she had made the room appear nice and 
trim; before the horse, the hogs and the cow 
had received their feed; before breakfast had 
been prepared and part thereof could be car- 


160 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


ried down to her husband's prison cell, — the 
sun was already high in the sky, and she calcu- 
lated that there would not be time to obtain a 
hearing with the vicar before the mass. 

When she arrived to the church the service 
was already in progress. Women in green 
jackets sat down on the steps drawing off 
their shoes before entering the building. The 
Rzepowa, having followed their example, 
edged her way into the church where the vicar 
was preaching a sermon, the Reverend Canon 
Ulanowsky occupying a conspicuous seat in 
a comfortable chair near the altar, staring at 
the congregation and rocking his head from 
one side to the other, as was his habit. The 
gospel had been read already, and the vicar 
preached over some question or other, in- 
volving divers heretical views advanced some 
time in the middle ages. He mentioned and 
described in detail to his hearers the stand- 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


161 


point from which these heretical views as well 
as the bull Ex stercore issued against them, 
were to be viewed. Finally, with a display of 
great eloquence and learning, he invited his 
hearers to remain simple-minded, poor in 
spirit; to live as dear children of the Lord; 
to become little heavenly birdies, and never 
yield to the persuasions of the so-called wise 
men, whose alleged wisdom was sheer false- 
hood. But above all they must never belong 
to those possessed of the satanic pride of the 
present day, for they sowed weeds instead of 
wheat, and hence they would reap but tears 
and sins. And here he quoted Condillac, Vol- 
taire, Rousseau, and Ochorowicz, without 
hinting at any difference in their views. Final- 
ly he entered into an exhaustive account of 
the numerous unpleasant situations in which 
those submitted to eternal damnation would 

eventually find themselves. — The Rzepowa 
11 


162 


IKE NEW SOLDIER. 


seemed to be possessed by a different spirit. 
Although not comprehending his words, she 
said to herself: '‘His sermon must be very 
fine, as he cries so loud and stands up there, 
covered with perspiration, and as nearly every- 
one weeps and keeps on panting as miserably 
as if they are ready to give out their 
spirits.” 

At length the sermon was out, and the mass 
commenced. Ah, how sincerely the poor 
Rzepowa offered her prayers, — how she flung 
herself upon God’s mercy! No wonder that 
little by little her heart became lighter; that 
peace settled in her troubled mind. 

Finally the solemn moment arrived. The 
priest, attired in a cloak white as the purest 
snow, took the most sacred sacrament from 
the cybary, turned toward the congregation 
and remained there, immovable, with closed 
eyes, for a while. The sparkling monstrance 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


163 


was held aloof by his trembling hand. — At 
length he intonated: 

‘‘Before the holy Sacrament 
We kneel in Thy sweet presence ” 

whereupon hundreds of voices answered from 
the choir. The solemn old hymn resounded 
beneath the spacious vaults, until the very 
window-panes rattled. The low boom of the 
pipe-organ; the peal of the church-bells; the 
rattling of drums in front of the building; the 
fragrant, bluish smoke emitted from the cen- 
sers; all mingled together in appealing to the 
feelings of devotion among the congregation; 
amidst all, the sunshine fell down through the 
high windows, enveloping everything in a 
golden haze, which rested, like a rainbow, 
on the oval and circular bands of smoke. And 
above it all one might occasionally catch a 
glimpse of the most sacred Sacrament, which 
lay on a sparkling tray held by the priest, — 


164 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


by the aged canon himself. The old man in 
his white talar, monstrance in hand, appeared 
like a heavenly revelation that inspired through 
veiled rays of light eternal happiness and 
God’s fear and love into all loving and recep^ 
tive minds. This calm of happiness was also 
imparted, to some extent, to the saddened 
heart of the poor Rzepowa, whose fervent 
prayers went up to God upon angel’s wings, 
as it were: 

‘'Jesus, as you yourself are present in this 
most holy sacrament,” said the unhappy wo- 
man, “do not forsake me, a poor, helpless 
creature!” 

Her tears were coming fast, — not the kind 
of tears that had been shed in the presence of 
the Blockhead judge, but mild tears, like 
pearls, sweet and full of peace. Before God’s 
majesty she fell down upon her face and re- 
mained in this position for some time, paying 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


165 


no attention to the things that passed about 
her. It seemed to her that angels from heaven 
lifted up her body and carried her into regions 
far, far above, — into the land of eternal bliss,, 
where there were neither clerks nor judges, 
nor proscription lists, but only a radiant glare 
of the rising sun, and within this the very 
throne of God himself, surrounded by a light 
of ineffable splendor and legions of beautiful 
angels with white wings. 

Thus the Rzepowa remained for a long 
time, and when she arose the service was at 
an end, the church had emptied its crowds of 
people, and clouds of incense were yet hang- 
ing about the vaults. In passing out, the last 
church-goers would yet dip their fingers in the 
holy-water basin. The aged deacon began to 
put out the candles. 

The Rzepow’a w^alked over to the parspnage 
and inquired for the vicar. He was sitting at 


166 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


the dinner table, but came forward at once, 
when told that a woman, who appeared to 
be much afflicted with grief, desired to speak 
to him. He was a young priest, with pale face 
and kind manners, a tall, white forehead, and 
a winning smile about his lips. 

“What do you want, my good woman?” 
asked he. — A low, but melodious voice. 

The Rzepowa courtesied and began to speak 
of her many great and small troubles. She 
explained matters in great detail, amidst tears 
and kissings of the hand, until finally, look- 
ing him full in the face, and her dark eyes 
filled with tears of humiliation, she conclud- 
ed: 

“Oh, I have come to listen to your advice, — 
would it please your most gracious Reverence 
to give me what I need!” 

“You have not come in vain,” softly re- 
turned the ecclesiastical gentleman. “But I 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


167 


can advise you only one thing: Throw all 
your care upon the dear Father in Heaven. — 
God tries his beloved ones in many ways, and 
even causes them much sorrow and suffering, 

■ — like Job, whose painful wounds even the 
dogs were licking; or like Asarias, whom he 
struck with blindness. But God always knows 
what he is doing. He rewards in His own 
way those who remain true to Him. You 
should regard the misfortune that has be- 
fallen your husband as God’s punishment of 
his great sins, — his drinking, — and you should 
thank God that in punishing your husband 
during his lifetime. He may yet, in the here- 
after, extend His full forgiveness unto 
him.” 

For a while the Rzepowa stared at the priest 
with her large, dark eyes, then she made a low 
courtesy and slinked away, without uttering 
a sound. 


168 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


And not until she found herself alone on 
the road did the woman feel that something 
caused her heart to shrink within her. She 
would weep, but could not! 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


169 


CHAPTER VII. 

“MY BEAUTIFUL FLOWER!” 

About five o’clock in the afternoon there 
appeared in the village streets, running in 
among the huts and hedges from one end of 
the premises of Blockhead to the other, — 
there appeared, more and more plainly, as 
they rose from out of the distance, a blue para- 
sol, a yellow straw hat with a blue ribbon, and 
an almond-colored gown, likewise adorned 
with blue ribbons. It was Lady Jadwiga, who, 
accompanied with Herr Victor, her cousin, 
enjoyed an after-dinner promenade. 

Lady Jadwiga was exactly one of those girls 
of whom we say: She has black hair, azure 
blue eyes, a milk-white skin; — she wears a 
beautiful, elegant, tastily chosen dress, which 


170 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


adds much to her natural beauty and seems 
to surround her with an atmosphere of light 
and harmony. The tall, graceful figure was 
displayed to its very best advantage; in fact, 
the young lady appeared to glide, rather than 
walk, along the road. Holding her parasol 
in one hand and lifting her dresses with the 
otjier, so as to display to their best advantage 
a white skirt and a pair of pretty, small feet 
enclosed in Hungarian lace shoes, she ap- 
peared to enjoy her walk immensely. Herr 
Victor, sauntering beside her, looked like a 
living picture, though his hair was very light 
and curly, as was, indeed, his tenderly culti- 
vated mustache. Health, youth, merriment 
and happiness seemed to form parts of this 
young couple, and besides, both bore an air 
of that higher, holyday-like form of life, which 
seems to find issue, not only in the world 
about us, but also in our thoughts, our hope 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


171 


and longing; in our ideas, and even in our 
dreams, — a form of life which plunges our 
very slightest imagination down into an ocean 
of golden, sparkling beauty. These two be- 
ings appeared amidst farm houses, huts, vil- 
lage children, peasants and other lowly sur- 
roundings not unlike planets of a higher or- 
der. It was quite a pleasant thought that 
there could be no link between these proud 
young persons of greater development and 
higher intelligence, and the unimaginative 
population of the village, which seemed as if 
saturated with the sad reality of things, and 
whose mode of living could hardly be consid- 
ered proper for human beings. There was 
no connection between these two spheres of 
life, at least none of spiritual character. 

The two walked side by side, entertaining 
each other with remarks on poetry and liter- 
ature — the subjects favored by young gentle- 


172 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


men and ladies who are, by virtue of their 
rank and their social standing, eligible to 
court festivities. — Those men and women who 
move about, attired in coarse linen clothes; 
these peasants and their women cannot un- 
derstand even their language. — Ah, this idea 
is a source of great satisfaction, — you may as 
well confess it at once, ladies and gentlemen! 

The conversation of this noble couple was 
not distinguished for anything that we would 
not have observed a hundred times before. 
They discussed one book after another, exact- 
ly like butterflies which flutter about many 
different flowers. Yet such a dialogue is nev- 
er trivial or vain to the two dear souls that 
engage therein. It is but a cover enclosing 
and encircling the golden flowers of their own 
feelings and thoughts. It is like a white rose- 
bud bursting with its own flaming red con- 
tents. Conversations of this character soar 


THE NEW soldier/ 173 

about the heights, indeed, like birds of pas- 
sage, in the spheres of azure blue, clinging oc- 
casionally to the world of positive things, and 
climbing upward, like a young sprout that 
clings to its support. 

Down there, in the inn, the common people 
drink, exchanging with one another com- 
monplace remarks on commonplace subjects. 
But yonder youthful couple sails on different 
seas, in different ships, equipped, as Gounod 
expresses it in his little song, with 

Mast made of ivory, 

Flags of silk in rosy-red, 

— Rudder done in gold.’^ 

It only remains to be added that Lady 
Jadwiga, by way of making an experiment, 
had turned her cousin’s head completely. 
Under such circumstances, one cannot blame 
young people for talking a great deal of 
poetry. 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


174 


“Has Lady Jadwiga read the last edition of 
Ely?” inquired the knight.* 

“I confess openly, Panie Victor,” replied 
the young lady, “I confess that Ely is my 
weak point. Whenever I read him it occurs 
to me that there is a sound of sw.eet music 
in the air, and so Ujejsky’sf little verse sounds 
in my ears, in spite of myself: 

“ T rest upon a cloud 

’Midst the quiet. 

There’re tears in my eyes; 

Scarcely I breathe. 

There’s an odor of violets sweet-scented, 

— And the ocean’s roar below. 

My hands are folded; 

I’m soaring through space unknown.’ 


* The pseudonym of Adam Assnyk, a prominent fig- 
ure in the history of modern Polish poesy. The usual 
form of the pseudonym is “El . . . y,” and one of the 
most prominent examples of his work is “Miss Lesla- 
dia,” a humorous tale, which has been followed by 
several collections of lyric poetry, Assnyk’s poesy has 
won for him an enviable reputation. — Transl. 

tUjejsky, a poet of the romantic school, born in 
1823. Author of “Marathon,” “The Songs of Solo- 
mon,” etc. Has produced lyrics of great beauty. — 
Transl. 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


175 


— ah,” — here she suddenly ceased quoting — • 
I knew how I would surely fall in love 
with him at once. No doubt we would un- 
derstand each other thoroughly.” 

“Happily,” returned Pan Victor dryly, — 
“happily, he is already married.” 

“Why do you say happily?” 

“Happily for all those to whom life would, 
in that case, possess no further attraction.” 

This remark Pan Victor uttered in a tone of 
deep concern and with a tragical air. 

“Oh, you flatter.” 

“Lady Jadwiga,” said the young man, his 
mood becoming at once lyric, “you are an 
angel!” 

“Very well, — I don’t mind. Let us talk of 
something else. Then, you do not care for 
Ely?” 

“Since a moment ago I hate him.” 

“How quickly your mood will change! I 


176 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


now ask you dispel those ominous clouds 
about your forehead, and to disclose before 
me the name of your favorite poet.” 

"‘Sowinsky,” declared Pan Victor, in a dark 
and dismal tone.* 

“But I almost fear him. Irony, blood, fire 
— wild outbursts!” 

“None of those frighten me the least.” 

In making this statement Pan Victor 
looked about the world with such a warlike, 
indomitable, gallant air, that a dog which had 
rushed out into the road from one of the huts, 
beat a hasty retreat, evidently for fear of be- 
ing punished summarily. The young people 
had indeed reached a house, from one of the 
windows of which there shone forth a buck’s 
beard, a flat nose, a light green neckcloth, — 

* Leonhardt Sowinsky has distinguished himself as 
a writer of sonnets and a critic of rare discernment. 
Some of his earlier productions bore witness of a 
somewhat untamed, vigorous imagination. — Transl. 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


17T 


but alas, in vain! This spectacle did not de- 
tain them the least. They stopped, however, 
at a beautiful little hut, where a density of wild 
vine clustered about the roof, and behind 
which there was a small pond shaded by fol- 
iage. 

“Look at this pretty dwelling,’’ said Lady 
Jadwiga. “This is the only poetic spot in the 
whole village of Blockhead.” 

“How so?” 

“Once it was a sort of Froebel school. The 
village children would play and learn reading 
here, while their parents were at work in the 
fields. Papa had the house built for that pur- 
pose.” 

“And what may it now be?” 

“A whisky shop.” 

The evolution of the house was followed no 
further, as they had reached a pool where 

some pigs — “thus named on account of their 
12 


178 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


palpable lack of cleanliness” — enjoyed an 
agreeable rest. In order to pass by the edge 
of this pool they must pass Rzepa’s hut. — 
Near the entrance sat the Rzepowa on a bun- 
dle of hemp, her elbows resting upon her 
knees, and covering the face with both hands. 
She was deadly pale, and her features had as- 
sumed a stiff, stony expression. The red 
eyes, veiled with tears and hopelessness, were 
staring vacantly into the far away distance. 
She did not even observe the two persons who 
were just passing by the gate; but the young 
lady had already seen her, and said: 

“Good evening, Rzepowa!” 

Then she arose and, walking up to the gate, 
made a low courtesy before Herr Victor and 
Lady Jadwiga, and struggled between tears 
and words. 

“What is it?” inquired the young lady. 

“Ah, my golden berry, my bright sunrise! 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


17 ^ 


Perhaps God sent you here. Will you not 
assist me with your influence?” 

Whereupon the Rzepowa stated what was 
the cause of her sorrow and suffering, and con^ 
tinned to kiss the girl’s hands, or, rather, spot- 
ting them with her tears. Lady Jadwiga was 
quite perplexed; her beautiful countenance 
expressed plainly that here was a case in which 
she hardly knew how to act. At length she 
said, after a pause of some embarrassment: 

‘'How can I give you any advice, my good 
woman? I am — I am, indeed, very sorry for 
you. But — really — I — I really do not know 
what advice to give. You had better go and 
consult Papa. Perhaps he may — good-bye,, 
my dear.” 

And so Lady Jadwiga lifted her almond- 
colored gown yet higher, — high enough to 
disclose not only her Hungarian shoes, but 
even a pair of white stockings with blue 


180 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


stripes; whereupon she continued on her way 
in the company of Herr Victor. 

^^God bless you, my beautiful flower!” called 
the Rzepowa after her. 

Lady Jadwiga, however, had become quite 
sad. The young gentleman even thought 
there were tears in her eyes, and therefore be- 
gan talking of Kraszewsky* and of other in- 
ferior fishes in the literary pond. The discus- 
sion soon became so animated that she forgot 
'That unpleasant matter” entirely. 

“At the castle?” said Rzepa’s wife to herself 
in the meantime. “Why, there I should have 
gone at first! How foolish I was not to think 
of that.” 


* Joseph 1. Kraszewsky, the most renowned of all 
Polish authors. His productions, like those of Maurus 
Jokai, the Hungarian, are very numerous; they cover 
nearly every field in the domain of literature, Kras- 
^ewsky is the author of some 500 volumes. “Morituri,” 
“Resurrecturi” and “Jermola, the Potter,” are among 
his best known tales. One of his most successful veins 
is the picturing of those for whom “the others care but 
little.” — Transl. 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


181 


CHAPTER VIII. 

‘‘MAY GOD REWARD YOU.” 

The castle commanded a pleasant view over 
an extensive court-yard, avenues flanked with 
rows of tall poplars, stables, fields and woods. 
Toward the garden there was a spacious 
porch shaded by vines of various kinds, and 
here the magnate with his family and their 
guests would often retire after dinner to enjoy 
a quiet talk and a cup of coffee. They now 
sat there, with Canon Ulanowsky, Vicar 
Czyzyk and Stolbicki, the auditor. The own- 
er of the mansion, himself, was distinguished 
by a considerable corpulence; his face was 
adorned with a red tinge and an imposing 
moustache. He, Pan Skorabiewsky, had re- 
tired into the depths of an easy chair, smoking 


182 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


his pipe. Her Ladyship poured with her own 
hands the coffee into the cups, and listened 
with an abstract smile to the talk of the audit- 
or, who was a great skeptic and usually prac- 
ticed his wit on the aged canon. 

‘^My dear Canon, you really must tell 
us the story of that renowned battle,” said 
he. 

''Hell?” inquired the old gentleman, placing 
one hand at his ear. 

" — of that great battle,” repeated the audit- 
or, raising his voice. 

"Ah — of the battle,” mused the Canon, 
plunging into a deep meditation and whisper- 
ing to himself, as if anxious to strengthen his 
recollection. The auditor had already pre- 
pared himself for a hearty laugh; the remain- 
der of the company awaited the story with evi- 
dent anticipation of enjoyment, although 
everybody had heard it at least a hundred 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


183 


times, as the old man told it whenever at all 
engaged in a conversation. 

‘^Let us see,” commenced the Canon. “At 
that time I held the vicar’s place. Gladysz 
was the canon. — Yes? — yes, so it is. He had 

had the whole of the vestry rebuilt a 

great improvement, — and . And imme- 

diately after the mass I go and say to him: 
‘Canon — .’ — ‘What do you want of me?^ 
asks he. — ‘I think,’ says I, ‘I think some- 
thing will yet come of it.’ — And then he re- 
plies: ‘I -am certain that something will come 

of it.’ — So we stand there and watch, 

and then, from behind the windmill come rid- 
ers — riders on horseback; infantry marches 
up; there comes a standard followed by — by 
cannon. I asked myself then and there: Won- 
der what comes from the other side? Perhaps 
sheep? — No, not sheep, but horsemen. — As 
soon as they see the others, they cry halt. And 


184 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


the others, too, cry halt. — Then, from the 
woods there come forward horsemen in great 
numbers, some at the right, others at the left 
side. — There the others, you know — they pur- 
sue them. Now they realize their danger: They 
must fight for dear life. So they begin shoot- 
ing, and behind the mountains there are others 
who shoot. — ‘Canon Gladysz,’ says I, ‘do 
you see them?’ — And the canon replies: 
‘Yes, I do see them: Look there, they fire 
the cannon, — they fire their carabines.’ Some 
are fleeing toward the river, others- want to 
trap them. See? They’re fighting hand-to- 
hand! Sometimes they win, sometimes the 
others win. Boom and smoke and flaming 
fires! Then the attack with bayonettes! 
There, — it seems that one fell down! I say 
it to the canon. — ‘Yes,’ he says, ‘I think 
they’ll win the fight.’ — But scarcely had I 
uttered a word, than they arose, you know, 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


185 


and ran away, as fast as they could run. The 
others follow in hot pursuit; — and now there 
begins a drowning and killing and taking pris- 
oners, so that I almost think it is all over. 
But don’t for a moment — why, it was not 
over. I want to say that ” 

Here the old gentleman stopped, leaned 
back in the chair, and was lost in deep medi- 
tation. The only evidences of his animated 
description of the great battle scene were the 
unusually energetic rocking of his head and a 
fearful stare in his projecting eyes. 

The auditor laughed until the tears were 
fairly trickling down over his cheeks. 

“Your Reverence,” said he, “who w^ere the 
people that fought, and where, and when?” 

“Heh?” 

“Oh, — ” cried the auditor, “I burst with 
laughing.” 

“Take a cigar!” 


186 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


you have another cup of coffee?” 

‘Thanks! — Why, that story nearly finished 
me altogether.” 

The Baron and his family joined in the 
amusement because of their desire to please 
Stolbicki. They had otherwise listened to 
the description of the battle every Sunday for 
a long time. 

Amidst this merriment there was suddenly 
heard a voice which, in a soft, trembling tone 
sounded from below: 

‘The Lord be praised.” 

Pan Skorabiewsky at once arose and, walk- 
ing over to the steps, inquired: 

“Who is there?” 

“It is I, — the Rzepowa.” 

“What is your errand?” 

The woman courtesied as low as she pos- 
sibly could, considering the child on her 


arm. 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 187 

"'I ask your protection, sir, — your help and 
advice.'’ 

^'My good woman, you should leave me 
alone on Sundays, at least,” interrupted the 
magnate, in a manner implying that on all the 
other days of the week he would be at her 
service. — ^‘You see there is company here, — 
and, really, I cannot leave that for your sake.” 

''I might wait — ” 

“Very well, you may do so. I cannot tear 
myself in two.” 

And so the corpulent magnate returned to 
his guests, while the Rzepowa retired to the 
paling, and humbly remained standing there. 
Her patience was tried, however, to its utmost 
capacity. The company settled itself for a 
comfortable talk, and the successive outbursts 
of amusement touched the woman in a queer 
way, as she was by no means occupied by 
thoughts of a pleasant character. After a 


188 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


while Herr Victor and Lady Jadwiga returned 
from their walk, whereupon all went into the 
house. 

The sun was slowly setting, when Jasink, the 
little servant-boy, came out on the porch, and 
began to arrange the chairs and tables for a 
tea-party. He changed the tablecloth, dis- 
tributed cups and saucers and rattled with the 
teaspoons. The Rzepowa waited and waited. 
She thought of returning to her house and 
coming back some time later, but again she 
feared to be too late. Seating herself in the 
grass near the paling she nursed the child until 
he fell asleep. His rest was, however, any- 
thing but quiet; since early morning he had 
been unwell, and the Rzepowa herself felt al- 
ternate shivers of heat and cold pass 
through, her. She waited patiently, how- 
ever, as one hour passed after another. There 
was a faint shimmer of light, as the moon 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


189 


rose and glided over the sky, pale and se- 
rene. 

The table was set on the porch, and there 
was a lamp burning. But the party did not 
yet appear, as Lady Jadwiga entertained the 
guests with piano music. 

Down on the sod the Rzepowa repeated the 
Lord’s Prayer and the Ave Maria, and con- 
sidered the way in which Pan Skorabiewsky 
might succeed in saving herself and hers. The 
exact manner in which this might be done was 
not quite clear to her, but she knew that the 
Baron, the Commissioner and the Superin- 
tendent were on quite familiar terms. Pan 
Skorabiewsky would only need to say a word 
and set the proper person on the right track, 
whereupon everything would arrange itself. 
And further: Even if Zolzikiewicz and the 
judge should attempt to frustrate her hopes, 
the Baron would always know where to seek 


190 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


justice for her. ^Tan Skorabiewsky,” said 
she to herself, ‘^always was a good man, who 
helped such as trusted in him, with a good 
will. Nor will he refuse to grant his assist- 
ance to me.’’ 

The Rzepowa did not err in hoping for the 
good will of Pan Skorabiewsky. The mag- 
nate was a kind-hearted man, indeed, who had, 
as the Rzepowa remembered quite well, done 
a great many acts of benevolence in favor of 
Rzepa. Her mother, now dead for many 
years, had been Lady Jadwiga’s nurse. So, 
after all, there was good reason for hoping for, 
and expecting, the very best results from her 
tiresome expedition. It appeared to her 
quite natural that she should wait for many 
a long hour, nor did she consider this an in- 
justice. 

The company had, in the meantime, re- 
turned to the porch. Through the leafy vines 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


191 


the Rzepowa observed how the young lady 
poured tea from a silver tea-pot into the cups, 
— a beverage that had been described by the 
Rzepowa’s mother as ‘Vater so sweet-scented 
that one’s mouth seems to expand with it.” — 
Everyone drank, talked, laughed and seemed 
to enjoy life to the best of his ability. Then 
the Rzepowa experienced a feeling that had 
never as yet found space in her heart. She 
was struck with the idea that a nobleman’s life 
is much happier than that of a common peas- 
ant. In spite of a violent effort her tears 
came, and one drop after another rolled down 
over her cheeks, as she sat on the bare sod, in 
the mponlight, nursing her feverish little child. 
— But soon this feeling gave way before an- 
other much more natural. The little servant 
came out, carrying a bowl, the contents of 
which were steaming hot. Now the woman 
realized that she was hungry, and that she had 


192 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


tasted nothing since early in the morning. 
Dinner had been entirely forgotten, — and 
then her breakfast had consisted only of a cup 
of warm milk. 

Oh, thought the Rzepowa, — if he would 
only throw me a bone! — She knew that more 
than that might be given to her, yet she was 
afraid to beg food in the presence of the whole 
party. The Baron would no doubt receive 
such an act very unkindly. 

At length the supper was over, whereupon 
Auditor Stolbicki at once left for home. Half 
an hour afterward the ecclesiastical gentlemen, 
too, stepped into one of the manorial carriages. 
The Rzepowa observed how the aged canon 
was helped to his seat by Pan Skorabiewsky 
himself, and so concluded that finally there 
was an opportunity to present the matter once 
more to the Baron. She approached the 
porch. The carriage rolled out of the yard. 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


193 


followed by Pan Skorabiewsky’s exhortation 
addressed to the coachman: 

“There, overturn the carriage on the dam, 
and ril reward you on your back!” 

Whereupon he glanced at the sky in order 
to prognosticate the morrow^s weather, and 
caught a glimpse of something white in the 
darkness. 

“Who’s there?” asked he. 

“It is I, — the Rzepowa.” 

“Ah, ’tis you, is k? Well, say what you 
want, it is growing late.” 

The woman again told her story of sorrow 
and of dismal prospects. Skorabiewsky lis- 
tened attentively, puffing at his pipe all the 
while, and finally spoke : 

“My dear woman, I should be glad to do 
something in your favor, if it were possible. 
I have pledged my word not to meddle witH 

the affairs of the Council.” 

13 


194 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


''I know it, sir,” said the Rzepowa, her voice 
already faltering; “but I thought your Lord- 
ship might have pity and and — ” 

She was unable to continue. 

“That is all very good,” returned Pan Skor- 
abiewsky; “but what could I do? It would be 
wrong to break my word, which I have 
pledged — pledged — . Nor could I go to the 
Superintendent for your sake alone. He has 
complained more than once that I would con- 
tinually address appeals and inquiries to him 
on all possible subjects. — Why, you have — 
you have the Council, and if the Council can- 
not straighten the affair, you know the way to 
the Superintendent’s, or the Commissioner’s 

office, as well as I do. — Then, what I 

mean to say well, good-night, and 

God help you.” 

“May God reward your Lordship,” an- 
swered the woman, courtesying. 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


195 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE COMMISSIONER. 

Rzepa, after leaving the pigs’ pen, did not 
return home, but walked down to the inn. It 
IS a well known fact that peasants will drink 
heavily when angry. From the inn Rzepa re^ 
paired to the Skorabiewsky mansion and be- 
haved there like a man deprived of what consti- 
tutes civilization and has absorbed a fair share 
of strong drink, in addition. A human being 
that is not sober does not know what he says. 
And besides, Rzepa, while attempting to force 
matters, and while comprehending as dimly as 
his wife did, the great principle of non-inter- 
vention, construed the Baron’s refusal in the 
spirit usually suggesting itself to persons of 
limited mental endowment, whose hopes are 


196 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


not realized. He even went so far as to per- 
mit himself uttering divers opinions and views 
inspired by the rudeness of peasant conviction, 
and, in consequence hereof, was thrown out 
of the mansion. After returning home he said 
to his wife: 

called and had a talk with his Lordship.’’ 

‘^And you found no encouragement?” 

‘Why, such infernal scoundrels ought to be 
driven from their dens with fire and smoke,” 
cried he, striking the table with his clenched 
hand. 

“Hold your peace, you brawler! What did 
his Lordship say to you?” 

“He told me to go to the Commissioner. — 
Plague strike !” 

“Then, it would be necessary to go and pre- 
sent the matter in Jackfield.” 

“I’ll go there,” answered he. “I’ll go and 
show those fellows that we don’t need their 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


197 


help as much as they may probably think.'* 

‘Toor fellow, don’t do it. I, myself, am 
ready to find out what may be done yet. — You 
may get drunk, you know, and — and then you 
become violent. That would be an awful 
thing, and would make our misfortune com- 
plete.” 

At first Rzepa opposed this plan, but soon 
after dinner he went down to the inn, bent 
upon drowning the worm that gnawed within. 
This was repeated on the following day, so the 
poor woman asked no further questions, but 
placed her troubles in God’s trust, and on 
Wednesday repaired to Jackfield with the 
child on her arm. The horse was needed in 
the fields, so the Rzepowa walked away at 
break of day, for the distance between Block- 
head and Jackfield was over twelve* miles. 
She almost expected to be overtaken on the 


* English measure. — Transl. 


198 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


road by some kind person who would permit 
her to sit on the edge of his vehicle, but no one 
came. At nine o’clock she seated herself, in a 
state of great exhaustion, at the edge of the 
woods, ate some pieces of bread and a couple 
of eggs that she carried along in a straw bas- 
ket, and continued her way. The sun became 
already quite hot, when she noticed a dairy- 
man from Doorchain, who drove along the 
road in a wagon made of rough boards 
and filled with geese intended for the 
Jackfield market. The Rzepowa asked him 
to accommodate her and the child with a 
seat. 

^'Gracious heaven, — my good Rzepowa,” 
replied Herschko, ‘^the load is so big that 
there is scarcely room for myself. Give me 
one Polish gulden, and jump in.” 

Now she remembered that all the money in 
her possession was six groschen, which were 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


199 


tied into one corner of her shawl. She offered 
these to the Jew, but he answered: 

^^Six groschen one does not find in the road. 
Keep them, and walk on.’’ 

He called to his horse, and drove on. The 
sun became more and more hot; large drops 
of perspiration ran down over her face; but 
the Rzepowa walked on, and arrived at Jack- 
field in another hour. 

Whoever possesses sufficient geographical 
knowledge will know when one enters the 
town of Jackfield from the Blockhead side, he 
will pass by the church now belonging to a 
reformed congregation, and where a wonder- 
ful picture of the Holy Virgin was formerly 
known to be. And even in our day a number 
of beggars will assemble here every Sunday, 
yelling out hymns and begging for alms. 
When the Rzepowa passed, there was only 
one, who stretched out from beneath a bundle 


200 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


of rags his one crippled foot without toes, 
held out the cover of a shoe-blacking box^ and 
cried: 

“Sacred Virgin, heavenly pure, 

Oh, Maria, Christ’s sweet Mother ” 

Whenever any one passed he stopped sing- 
ing, stretched out his foot farther than before, 
and yelled as loud as if somebody was in the 
very act of flaying him: 

‘‘Oh, good people, a poor cripple begs some 
help of you. The Lord will reward your kind- 
ness in all days to come!’’ 

The Rzepowa opened the knot in her shawl 
on catching sight of him, and, with her six 
groschen, walked over to the poor wretch. 

“Can you give me back five groschen?” 

She intended to give him only one gro- 
schen, but the beggar, as soon as the piece of 
money was in his hand, cried as loud as he 
could: “If you regret to offer six groschen 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


201 


for the Lord’s dear sake, God will certainly re- 
fuse to help you in your own need. Leave 
me, or you will regret it in all the days to 
come!” 

The Rzepowa said, in a tone of resignation: 

‘'May it please God.” 

Whereupon she continued her way. On 
reaching the Ring Place she was frightened at 
the seeming lack of order and plan in the ar- 
rangement of the streets. Any town is likely 
to cause some bewilderment to a stranger, 
who must inquire about his way even in a 
small village. And the Rzepowa found her- 
self in a like position. — 'T will lose my way,” 
thought she, "as I often did in the woods.” 
So her only choice was to make inquiries. The 
Commissioner’s house she found easily 
enough, but the people told her that the of- 
ficial himself must be sought in his office. The 
clerks in the latter place referred her, however. 


^02 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


to the Court Secretary. ' And where might 
the Court Secretary be found? Ah, most 
foolish of all women, where might the Secre- 
tary be save in the town of Jackfield? — So the 
Rzepowa continued her search, and finally 
found herself before a palatial edifice, the very 
size and structure of which inspired her with 
a feeling of awe. At the front of it were a 
number of carriages, wagons and Jews’ shops. 
— She looked about, trying to find the en- 
trance. “Will you kindly tell me,” said she to a 
gentleman with a long coat, who stood there, 
waiting for somebody, “where the entrance 
is.” — “Why, woman,” replied he, “you are 
standing before it.” 

She found courage enough to enter the pa- 
latial edifice, but was again awed by the wil- 
derness of halls that opened before her. There 
were doors at the right and doors at the left, 
each one equipped with some inscription. The 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


203 


Rzepowa crossed herself, and opened with fear 
and wavering gestures the last door in the one 
row, whereupon she found herself in a spacious 
room with a bar and a railing. And behind 
the railing was a gentleman, dressed in a long 
coat with gilt buttons, who had a pen stuck up 
over his ear. Before the railing stood a num- 
ber of gentlemen, of various descriptions, who 
counted and counted, while he in the long 
coat smoked one paper cigarette after another 
and filled out receipt blanks, afterward hand- 
ing them across the railing. Whoever re- 
ceived such a paper left the room at once. The 
Rzepowa thought this was the place where 
people must make their payments, in order to 
gain recognition. Hesitatingly she ap- 
proached the railing, but no one deigned to 
look at her. The Rzepowa remains standing 
there, however; an hour passes; people come 
and leave; the clock behind the counter 


204 . 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


keeps on ticking, but she is yet there. Fi- 
nally the last one left the room, and the offi- 
cials seated themselves at their desks to write. 
The woman then found courage enough to 
say: 

'The Lord be praised . 

"What do you want?’* 

"His Grace, the Commissioner ” 

"This is the Treasurer’s office.” 

"His Grace, the Commissioner ” 

"This is the Treasurer’s office, I tell you!” 

"Where is the Commissioner?” 

"There,” replied the official, pointing with 
his pen at the exit. 

The Rzepowa walked out in the hall once 
more. — There! — But where? Where might 
the Commissioner be? — Countless doors, but 
which might be the right one?” 

Finally, among the crowds of persons that 
constantly moved in and out, she observed a 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


205 


peasant, whip in hand, and to him she turned 
at once. 

‘Tatherr’ 

‘What do you want?” 

“Where is your home?” 

“At Pigstown. What do you want?” 

“Where may I find the Commissioner?” 

“How should I know?” 

She addressed her inquiry to a gentleman 
with gilt buttons,^ but without a long coat. 
There were holes at the elbows of his jacket, 
and he replied impatiently: 

“I have no time.” 

The Rzepowa now opened another door, 
which carried the following inscription: “All 
persons not belonging to the force of officials 
are requested to remain outside.” Of course 
she was neither one of the officials, nor had 
she noticed the warning. Opening the door, 
she glanced around: A bare room; beneath 


206 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


the windows a bench where some one sits 
sleeping; an open door disclosing the interior 
of another room, where uniformed gentlemen 
constantly run out and in. The Rzepowa ap- 
proached the slumbering man on the bench 
without fear; he was a small person with a 
pair of long, thin legs, and his shoes seemed 
much the worse for wear. 

She touched him on the shoulder, whereat 
he awoke, stared at her, and cried : 

“No strangers admitted here.” 

The woman rapidly made for the hall, clos- 
ing the door behind her with a bang. 

The third time she found herself alone in the 
hall. Now she sat down near another door, 
and determined to wait even to the end of all 
time. “Some time or other somebody must 
come and inquire about my errand,” thought 
she. The poor woman did not weep, but 
rubbed her eyes, which ached, until every dooi 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


207 


in the hall turned round and round before her 
vision. Persons came and went from other 
halls; doors creaked on their hinges, and 
there was a bustle not unlike that of a village 
fair. 

At length some one seemed to take pity on 
her. From one of the adjoining rooms a 
stately gentleman stepped into the hall. She 
had seen him occasionally in the village church 
and recognized in him one of the most promi- 
nent members of the ‘‘szlachcie” party. In 
passing, he happened to touch her, and 
asked : 

'‘Why do you sit here? What do you 
want?” 

“The Commissioner ** 

“This is the Attorney’s office, not the Com- 
missioner’s.” 

He pointed with his finger to a door at the 
farthest end of the hall, and continued: 


208 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


^There, — where the green wall-board is 
hung up. Do you see it?” 

"‘But don’t walk in, for he is busy, you 
know. You had better wait where you are, 
until he will pass by.” 

The gentleman walked up the hall, and the 
Rzepowa glanced after him, quite thankful in 
her heart. Why, the man seemed to her al- 
most a guardian angel. 

She was obliged to wait very long, how- 
ever, before the door with the green board 
swung open. A military gentleman of mature 
age walked swiftly up the hall, and she felt at 
once that he must be the Commissioner him- 
self. There were a number of persons who 
addressed him and pressed toward him from 
all sides, and some stood in a row, even as far 
back as where the Rzepowa was waiting. — 
^‘Gracious Herr Commissioner!” “Only a 
word with the Commissioner!” — He did not 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


209 : 


listen, however, but continued his way. On 
seeing him so near, the Rzepowa felt as if she 
would almost faint. ‘^God’s will be done,’' 
thought she, and, with one arm outstretched, 
rushed out in the middle of the hall, falling on 
her knees in the very place where the Com- 
missioner was obliged to pass. He looked up, 
and stopped. The whole procession of peti- 
tioners surrounded the two. 

‘'What do you want?” asked the Commis- 
sioner. 

"Oh, most gracious !” 

She stopped out of pure fear, and could not 
utter a sound. The tongue seemed petrified 
within her mouth. 

"Well, what is it?” 

"Oh, — oh! enlisted among the sol- 

diers — I” 

"Well? Is somebody going to enlist you, 

eh?” inquired the Commissioner. 

14 


210 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


The bystanders laughed uproariously, in or- 
der to attract the good will of the mighty of- 
ficial to their persons. But he checked the 
merriment at once by turning around and 
saying, in a sharp tone: 

‘Will you kindly hold your peace ?’’ 

Then, with some impatience, he again faced 
the Rzepowa: 

“Tell me quickly. What do you wantT 
My time is short.^' 

But the outburst of laughter from the by- 
standers had robbed the poor woman of her 
last grain of courage, so she began an inco- 
herent stammering: 

“Burak — Rzepa! — Rzepa, Burak! Oh!’’ 

“She must be drunk,” observed some one of 
the spectators. 

“She must have left her tongue at home,” 
added another. 

“But what do you want of me?” repeated. 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


211 


the Commissioner, with increased impatience. 
"'Are you drunk, — are you?” 

"Oh, Jesus, Maria!” cried the Rzepowa, 
who. felt that her last anchor slipped away. — 
"Most gracious — I” 

The Commissioner was really quite busy, as 
the proscription lists were coming in, and he 
was required to pass his opinion upon a great 
many insignificant things. Besides, it was im- 
possible to elicit a clear and definite statement 
of what the woman really wished, so he at last 
shrugged his shoulders and said: 

"Oh, that whisky, that whisky — ! And the 
woman is young and pretty.” 

Whereupon he addressed her in a tone be- 
fore which nothing above the earth’s surface 
or below would fail to quake in fear, saying: 

"When sober, go and bring the matter be- 
fore the council of your own town. From 
there it will reach me.” 


212 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


He left her with rapid strides, followed by 
the crowd of supplicants, and cries like these: 

^'Gracious Herr Commissioner! — Pray, 

Herr Commissioner, only one word!” ^ 


The hall had become empty, and quiet 
reigned about the large building, only the 
Rzepowa’s child began to utter a faint cry. 
Then the woman came to her senses, arose, 
lifted the little boy on her arm, and, in a tone 
which appeared strange, even to herself, lulled 
him asleep. 

oh!” 

She left the building. Outside the light 
had faded to some extent, and there were oc- 
casional flashes of lightning about the hori- 
zon. The air oppressed her. It is useless to 
describe the feelings of the Rzepowa, or the 
thoughts that passed through her head, as she 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


213 


retraced the way to Blockhead, passing by the 
reformed church. Ah, if Lady Jadwiga ever 
found herself in a like situation, she would cer- 
tainly write a sensational novel that should not 
fail to convince every realist of the existence 
of ideal beings on earth. In the case of Lady 
Jadwiga, however, every impression would re- 
sult in a reflection; every instance of desper- 
ate strife among souls of different characters 
would find expression in equally desperate — 
and therefore dramatic — ideas, scenes and 
words. This incomplete circle: this deep- 
rooted, painful sensation of the incongruity of 
impotency and potency: this sullen, inexplica- 
ble pain of eyeing no means of help and relief 
anywhere, — neither on earth nor in heaven; — 
all this would inspire into Lady Jadwiga the 
words of a beautiful monologue, which would 
only need to be put down in writing, in order 
to secure for the author a lasting reputation. 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


21 -: 

But the Rzepowa? — Ah, when common 
people suffer, why, they suffer, and there is 
the end of it! — The Rzepowa quaked under 
the grasp of misfortune, as the bird quivers 
in the hands of the malicious boy. She pur- 
sued her way, looking straight ahead and with 
no one to relieve the pressure of her dark and 
dismal thoughts. The wind chased her along; 
drops of perspiration fell from her forehead, — 
that was all. Only once in a while, when her 
child, her little, sick child opened its lips and 
struggled for breath, as if death already 
claimed it, — only then did she say: “J^^ku, 
my beloved, my child!” and pressed her lips 
against his hot forehead. 

By this time she had already progressed 
quite far on her way, but suddenly came to a 
dead stop, as a peasant, who bore evident signs 
of being intoxicated, came waddling along 
the road. The clouds above contracted more 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


215 


and more into a dark, threatening pile; the 
approach of the storm was not to be doubted. 
At intervals there would be a flash of light- 
ning. The peasant, however, paid no heed to 
these things, but left his coat-tails to the care 
of the wind, pushed his hat down over one 
ear, and tottering from one side to the other, 
sang: 

’Liza was going 
Out on the meadow. 

Gathering turnips, 

Raking the turnips; 

Turning here, turning there: 

Turning about the turnips; 

Hoh, ho — oh!” 

Noticing the Rzepowa he stopped, stretched 
out his arms and yelled: 

^‘Come here, my ‘Lizz,’ 

And give me a kiss!” 

He attempted to grasp hold of her, but the 
Rzepowa, in her agony of fear and anger, 
jumped aside. The peasant, however, in pur- 


216 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


suing her, stumbled and fell, owing to the in- 
firmity of his feet. But he arose in a moment, 
yet without attempting a pursuit, picked up a 
stone and sent it after her with such a force 
that the air was fairly whistling in its course. 
The Rzepowa felt a stinging pain in her head, 
and turned giddy. She fell on her knees, but, 
fearing a pursuit, and being anxious for the 
fate of the child, ran as fast as her feet would 
carry her. When reaching a cross-way, and 
feeling perfectly exhausted, she turned and no- 
ticed that the man was going in the direction 
of the town, tottering and stumbling as he 
went. Feeling a singular sensation of warmth 
about her neck, she felt with her hand and 
found that it was blood. It grew dark before 
her eyes, and she fainted. In a little while 
consciousness returned; she was sitting on 
the ground, leaning to a direction-post. At 
this moment a cabriolet came rushing past; in 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


217 


it were a young man and the governess from 
the manor. The young man did not know 
the Rzepowa, but he had seen her at church. 
She at once thought of walking up to the cab- 
riolet and ask in God’s name to be allowed to 
sit up, or that they would at least take the 
child along, to protect it against the approach- 
ing storm. 

She arose, but found herself unable to make 
a single step. The young man, however, as 
the vehicle approached the place, observed 
that a woman stood leaning against the post, 
and so he called to her: 

^‘Hallo, woman, — take a seat!” 

‘'May God reward ” 

“On the ground! On the ground!” 

The young man was generally recognized 
as a great hand in cracking jokes, and when- 
ever there was an opportunity, he would play 
his tricks on people. So he had his fun in dis- 


218 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


appointing the hopes of the Rzepowa, and 
drove on, laughing and enjoying the trick im- 
mensely. The merriment resounded in the 
ears of the poor woman, and as the vehicle 
passed on she noticed how the gentleman 
slipped his arm about the governess. It even 
looked as if this fine, couple kissed each 
other, as the cabriolet disappeared on the 
road. 

The Rzepowa was alone once more. — Yet, 
we do not use without sufficient reason the 
proverb: ‘Women and turtles are long-lived 
beings;’’ for she stumbled onward, after nearly 
a whole hour’s rest, tired to the marrow of 
her bones, but quick in spirit. 

“What may this innocent child have sinned, 
— my little gold fish, my little child! — Oh, God 
in Heaven!” murmured she repeatedly, press- 
ing the sick baby to her bosom. 

Soon a shiver of fever ran through her body. 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


319 


and she began, like in a fit of intoxication, to 
cry: 

^The little cradle at home is empty, and my 
dear one went away to fight the enemy.’’ 

The wind tore the cap from her head. Her 
beautiful, long hair fell down over her shoul- 
ders and was tossed about in the wind. Sud- 
denly there was a flash of lightning, so near 
that she felt a sulphur-like smell. A deafening 
roar of thunder followed. When the benumb- 
ing effect of this was over, she called aloud: 

*‘His Word became desk!” 

She glanced upward, — she looked into the 
world of the wild, raging, merciless, pitiless 
and roaring elements. She began to sing, in 
a quivering tone: 

“God, beneath Thy wings ” 

An ominous, copper-colored reflection from 
the clouds spread about the earth. The Rze- 


220 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


powa had reached the forest, where it was yet 
more dismal and awful. Between intervals of 
calm there was a soaring and a whistling, as if 
one fir-tree whispered to another: '‘How 
comes it, how comes it? Oh, God, how may 
it all end?” Then quiet reigned once more, 
until finally a voice seemed to rise out of the 
depths of the forest. The Rzepowa shuddered 
from head to feet; it seemed as if some one 
cried out wantonly from the lake over yonder; 
as if gray spectres circled about her at every 
fresh step she made. — “If I had only reached 
the end of the forest,” said she to herself. 
“Yonder is the mill and the miller’s house.” 

Gathering all her efforts, she ran forward, 
breathing the fresh, cool air with her open 
mouth. In the meantime, however, the sky 
above had opened its locks and was now pour- 
ing forth a torrent of rain mingled with hail. 
The wind blew with such force that firs and 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


221 


pines bent straight before it. The forest be- 
came shrouded in fog, steam and rain. No 
path is visible anywhere; trees fall down with 
a crash, or creak and toss their branches wild- 
ly. The air becomes dark, and amidst the 
dark there is a constant shower of falling rain, 
hail and branches. The Rzepowa realized 
that she was fast growing faint. 

'‘Help, help!’' cried she. But her voice was 
too weak, and nobody heard it. The soaring 
wind chokes her cry and hinders her breath. 
She now understood that it was impossible to 
penetrate farther. 

She stopped, removed her shawl and most 
of her clothing, and wrapped it all carefully 
about the child’s body. Observing a weeping 
willow, she crept in under it, laid down her 
bundle, and fell to the ground beside her child. 

"Oh, Lord,” whispered she, "come and take 
my soul.” 


222 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


She closed her eyes. For some time the 
storm raged on, but soon all was quiet. The 
sun had set; night was coming on; one star 
after another peeped through the clouds. Be- 
neath the weeping willow lay the immovable 
body of the Rzepowa. 


‘'Move on!” called a voice through the 
dark. 

The call was followed by the rattling of a 
vehicle and the swapping of horses’ feet in the 
pools. It was Herschko, the dairyman, who 
now returned home after having sold his geese 
on the Jackfield market. 

He caught sight of something white, recog- 
nized the Rzepowa, and alighted from his wa- 
gon. 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


m 


CHAPTER X. 

THE VICTORY OF GENIUS. 

Herschko had lifted up the Rzepowa and 
her child from under the tree and carried them 
to Blockhead, where he was met by Rzepa, 
who had started out with a horse and vehicle, 
when the storm threatened to approach. The 
poor, exhausted woman was obliged to remain 
in bed the whole of the next day, and when 
she arose the child was taken ill. The god- 
mothers came and burned incense, and hung 
consecrated wreaths upon the walls; and the 
old wife of the blacksmith consulted with a 
black hen, who had been placed underneath 
an inverted strainer, about the disease. Soon 
the child was relieved, but the greatest trouble 
turned out to be that of Rzepa himself, who 


224 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


poured immense quantities of whisky into his 
throat every day, and would consequently be- 
come unreasonable and violent. Singularly 
enough, when the Rzepowa, after the tiresome 
expedition to Jackfield, had regained con- 
sciousness, and at once inquired about the 
child, her husband answered in a sullen and 
angry mood, instead of giving evidence of any 
care and concern: 

“You just keep running from one place to 
another, and the devil may look out for the 
child. If it had come to any harm I would 
have taught as good a lesson as ever you 
dreamed of.’^ 

This evident lack of thankfulness on his part 
made her thoughts bitter, and she had in mind 
to return the answer that was already framed 
in her wounded heart, but found herself 
unable to reproach the man whom she loved 
so dearly, in her blind way. All she could do 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


225 


was to utter, in a tone of sheer agony, the one 
cry: 

‘Wawrzon!’^ 

She then turned toward him with a glance 
which nearly threw him off the chest on which 
he was sitting. For a while both remained 
quiet, whereupon Rzepa said, in a manner 
wholly different from before: 

‘‘Adarysia, dear, forgive me for what I said. 
I see that I have hurt you.’’ — In testimony 
whereof he set up a great howl, followed by a 
fit of weeping, kissed her feet, and behaved in 
general like a madman. And she accompan- 
ied him with a loud weeping. 

He may have felt unworthy of her. Yet, 
their harmony lasted but a short while. The 
concern felt by both developed like an in- 
flamed wound, and strife followed. When 
Rzepa entered the hut, whether sober or in- 
toxicated, he would not address a single word 

15 


226 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


to his wife, but seated himself on the chest 
and looked steadily at the floor before his feet. 
Thus he remained sitting one hour after an- 
other, w’hile she went to work in and about the 
house, as usual, but without uttering a sound. 
If one desired to say something to the other 
it appeared as if the words would not join 
themselves rightly; and so they lived, almost 
like people that have a grudge against each 
other. The hut remained as dull, and quiet, 
and dismal as a grave. 

And what had they to discuss between 
themselves? Both realized that their fate was 
sealed, and that no hope remained for them. 

For several days Rzepa walked about, pon- 
dering over his own dismal, dark thoughts. 
He went to the vicar, desiring to be confessed, 
but the priest refused to absolve him, and bid 
Rzepa return the next day. On the following 
day Rzepa went down to the inn, however, in- 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


227 

stead of keeping the appointment. People 
heard him saying that if God refused to help 
him, he would go and sell his soul to the devil. 
The village began to shun him, and to say 
that there seemed to be a kind of curse^ or 
ban, upon his house. All evil tongues spoke 
up and said that the judge and the amanuen- 
sis had done a good act, inasmuch as this here- 
tic might otherwise have called down God’s 
doom upon the township of Blockhead and its 
inhabitants. And again, the good godmoth- 
ers began to utter quite fearful things of the 
Rzepowa. The latter happened to go down 
to the village pump, as the water in her own 
well had become too low for use. When pass- 
ing the inn with her bucket she overheard the 
conversation of two urchins, of whom the one 
said: 

'There goes the soldier’s wife.” 

Another replied: 


22S 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


''She is no woman, but a she-devil.'' 

The Rzepowa affected not to hear this, but 
could not fail to observe that the urchins 
crossed themselves before her. 

She filled her bucket at the pump, and re- 
turned home. In the doorway of the inn 
stood Schmul, who, on seeing the Rzepowa, 
removed the porcelain pipe which was hang- 
ing out of his mouth, and called: 

"Rzepowa!” 

"What do you want?” said she, stopping in 
the way. 

"Did you seek help from the council?” 

"Yes.” 

"Did you see the vicar?” 

"I did.” 

"Did you appeal to the Baron?” 

"I did. 

" — and to the Commissioner?” 

"Yes.” 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


229 


‘‘And you found no assistance?’' 

The Rzepowa, instead of answering, sighed; 
whereupon Schmul continued: 

“How foolish you are! — Why, I never heard 
of anything so ridiculous in the township of 
Blockhead. What is the cause of all the 
trouble? — Why have you been chasing from 
one office to another? — What does the agree- 
ment rest upon? — Why, it rests upon a sheet 
of paper, and if that sheet of paper is no more 
there, the agreement becomes void: You tear 
the document to pieces, and there’s the end of 
it all.” 

“How wisely said!” returned the Rzepowa. 
— “If I really had the paper, it would soon be 
torn into pieces.” 

“Why, don’t you know that the clerk is 

keeper of the paper? Well, I know 

that you have great influence with the clerk. 
He, himself, said to me: ‘If the Rzepowa/ 


230 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


said he, 'comes and asks me to destroy the 
document, then I will destroy it at once.’ — 
That he said to me.” 

The Rzepowa made no reply, but grasped 
firmly the handle of her bucket and walked up 
the road leading to the clerk’s habitation. 

And twilight began to set in. 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


2Z1 


CHAPTER XL 

THE TROUBLES ARE ENDED. 

The stars were twinkling in the sky, as the 
door creaked, and the Rzepowa entered her 
hut with cautious* steps. She remained stand- 
ing, however, as if rooted to the spot, for her 
expectation that Rzepa would spend the night 
at the inn was not fulfilled. Instead, he was 
sitting on the chest, leaning against the wall, 
pressing his clenched hands against his knees 
and glancing back and forth over the floor. 
The embers on the hearth shone dimly. 

‘‘Where was you?’’ asked Rzepa, in a hard 
tone. 

Instead of answering she threw herself 
down on the floor before him, crying amidst 
sobs: 


232 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


‘‘Wawrzon, Wawrzon, for you — for your 
sake did I sacrifice myself. Yet he has de- 
frauded me, and scorned me, and chased me 
away from him! Wawrzon, my heart, — you, 
at least, will pity me and be kind to me! — 
Wawrzon, Wawrzon!” 

Rzepa drew out an axe from behind the 
chest where he was sitting. 

“No,” said he quietly. “Your end is near. 
Say farewell to the world, for you will never 
see it again. Poor woman, you shall no long- 
er sit in your hut; you will rest in the church- 
yard. You ” 

She looked up to him in agony. 

“You will not murder me!” 

“‘Lose no time, Marysia,” said he. “Cross 
yourself, then all will be over. — You will not 
even feel it.” 

“Wawrzon, do you mean ?” 

“Lay your head on this chest.” 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


233 


‘Wawrzon!’’ 

'"Lay your head on this chest!’’ cried he 
again. There now was foam about his lips. 

“Oh, for God’s sake! Help! Save me! 
Sa— !” 

A dull blow was struck, followed by a moan- 
ing and the fall of a body. There came an- 
other blow; a faint groan; — and then several 
blows in rapid succession. A stream of blood 
flowed out over the floor, and the embers on 
the hearth were extinguished. Through the 
Rzepowa’s body went a shudder; it stretched 
itself at full length, and remained immovable. 


Soon afterward there was seen an ocean of 
flames, which illuminated the whole of the 
surrounding country: The Skorabiewsky 
mansion was all in a blaze. 


234 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


EPILOGUE. 

Now, my reader, I may state to you — be- 
tween ourselves — that Rzepa would not at all 
have been enlisted as a soldier. An agree- 
ment of the kind that had been signed in the 
inn would have had no validity whatever. The 
peasants are, however, not versed in matters 
of this kind, nor does the so-called higher in- 
telligence know much of them. Pan Zolzi- 
kiewicz, who knew well enough, calculated 
that the affair would hang fire, and that the 
woman’s agony would soon enough render 
her submissive. 

The great man did not miscalculate. To 
the question of what eventually became of him 
we may answer as follows : 

After having set fire to the mansion Rzepa 


THE NEW SOLDIER. 


235 


hastened back to the village, hoping to cool 
his rage upon the amanuensis. The cvy^ of 
fire that caused every one to bestir himself, 
and the ensuing panic, saved the clerk’s life. — 
He is yet the incumbent of the position so 
ably filled by him, but is now in great hopes 
of being promoted to the chair of a justice. 
He has finished the reading of Barbara 
Ubryk’s novel, and firmly hopes that Lady 
Jadwiga may yet some day press his hand 
under the table. 

Future will show whether his hopes of gain- 
ing the position he has in view, and the press- 
ing of the hand in question, will be realized. 


THE END. 


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